Everything's Going My Way

Because I grew up in the blessed land of wheat, I often find myself living the life of an "Oklahoma" poster child. I know every song by heart, and apply them to themes of daily life.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling. Everything's going my way!"

I had this song on instant replay a'la delusion today as my world as an educator, as a wife, and as a friend crumbled right before my very eyes.

Now, I realize this is my second post of "woe is me," but if the purpose of blogging truly is to keep you all up to speed on the lives of us Idaho dwellers, as well as document life for the future family clan of Josh and Ashley Blain, then I figure not every day can be a happy one, right? I'm not trying to portray the perfect Brady Bunch family, because, let's face it, sometimes life just stinks.

Today...nope...this week has been rough. Last week was rough. I live with a 7Up can in hand 24/7, and Beptobismal within arms reach at all times. Truth be told, I have two bottles of that pink chalky stuff in my desk at school, and I drink it straight out of the bottle. The measuring cups are for amateurs.

During first hour today, my prep hour, a fellow teacher swung by for mindless chatter, but that chatter turned serious, and before I knew what was happening, she was crying and I was crying. Another teacher popper her head in, then she was crying.

The crisis? Loneliness of single parents. I couldn't even find words.

Yep, I started the day off on a heavy topic.

Second hour came, a boy got mad, stormed out of my room, tossed a few choice words over his shoulder, and then I couldn't find him. I had a class full of 10th graders, and one was MIA. I was livid, he was upset, and next week's detention will be a bit more full.

Third hour proved the true imperfections of my knowledge over the "Iliad." Curse you Homer.

Fourth hour ended with 16 students cussing my name for a failed pop quiz of "To Kill a Mockingbird." Believe me, if I was the mockingbird, I would have taken the bullet.

Fifth hour...was...stinky. Literally.

Senior English. Plus immaturity. Plus male humor. Plus burritos from lunch. PLUS a one-liter bottle of Pepsi. Yep- the loudest, most grotesque flatulent of human history. And the boy simply looked at me and said, "What?"

A full can of Lysol, that's what!

Sixth hour, there was no room in the inn. Truly. We went to one computer lab...pre-arranged, I might add...full. Lab number two. Full. Library? FULL.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day."

Seventh hour. Yearbook. Should be a breeze.

Disaster. Yelling. Screaming. More storming off.

"I've got a beautiful feeling."

Student: "I don't even want to be in this stupid class!"

Nothing... is... going... my way.

To top everything off, Josh called to see how my day went, quickly assessed that it went poorly, and tried to brighten life with a bit of humor.

My response was most certainly not one of Carol Brady's.

My response was, "If you don't stop, I'm going to punch you through the phone."

There went my Wife of the Year Award.

This semester has started off so poorly. I ended the first semester of my career confident that teaching was the only profession for me, confident I would always love every single one of my students, and confident I would live through this first year as an English teacher. No wonder 50% of all first year teachers quit after that notorious year.

All I can say is, "Boooo!"

Tomorrow I'll be humming "I Will Survive," and might even possibly get the full lyrics tattooed to my buttocks. Just to remind myself every day is not a musical where the wind comes sweeping down the plains. Sometimes, every day just makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your tear ducts have dried out and your face gives the impression that it was stung by a very large bumble bee.

I don't have anything clever or humorous to add for a closing. If I had any energy at all the "crying it out" technique might actually sound appealing. But I think I'll just go to bed, let my husband hold me, and pray tomorrow is either much, much better than today was, or that I get the Swine Flu and can call in sick.

At this point, I'm not sure which is better.

Some Needed Laughter

Today was a rough day. It started very early, included an all-staff meeting, and had me in tears before lunch. My wonderful husband text me to ask if there was anything he could do. My reply?

"Lunch?"

After a few very bold reminders from this man I get to call mine, some more tears, and a very organic lunch, the bell rang, Josh's cue to head out.

As students began to filter into my room, I hurriedly tried to finish a note for one of our congregants Josh was on his way to visit. After a flurry of hand motions and about four nanoseconds, it donned on me that liquid was trailing down my desk.

It was one of those moments where you're watching from what feels like outer space. Nothing could be done to stop the moment until Josh's voice broke into my head.

He said very somberly: "I'll just go."

I'm still not quite sure how it happened, but somehow Josh knocked over the almost-full can of 7Up sitting on my desk. Rather than simply spilling on the floor, it was unfortunate that, in fact, the bottom drawer of my desk was open, the drawer I just grabbed the card from. The drawer that just happened to be full of student finals, IEPs, and 504s. And they were sopping with clear stickiness meant to soothe the war going on in my lower intestines from the day's events.

I left the mess, finished writing my note, told Josh a good-bye, and turned to see 10 sets of eyes watching me.

I didn't say a word. They didn't say a word. We simply stared at each other.

Finally someone piped up, "He looked like he just got in trouble!" To which I said, "Probably because he thought he just got in trouble."

Then I burst out laughing, and my students burst out laughing, because my desk drawer began to urinate 7Up. And it was loud.

Suddenly, my day had no more room for tears or intestinal relapses. Just the "Iliad" and 10 seniors who have slipped into my heart, and who I am very honored to teach English.

I'll just have to save those tears for another day.

It Happens to the Best of Us

I have a love for words. But sometimes I use them...poorly.

After church wrapped up tonight, I was chatting with two of our ladies, laughing and swapping stories of Christmas celebrations, and I'm telling you, I think my brain broke.

While laughing over how kids miraculously heal because they "think" a medicine is going to work, I brazenly stated, "The mind is a natural libido."

The word didn't quite feel right as it left my tongue, but the two ladies laughed, so I thought maybe I was just out of practice with the noun. And then I spotted Josh's quizzical look from across the room.

While 95% of our congregants are very hard of hearing, Josh is not. And he caught me in a word blunder.

And then I realized what I had said.

Remorse immediately followed. So did a lot of laughter.

I apologized profusely to the two ladies- one was hard of hearing and missed the mishap, and thankfully the other said the word "sounded right" so she missed the mix-up as well.

The brain is like a natural placebo, but a libido it is not.

I would highly suggest never confusing these two words.

And as my dear friend JJ would say, "That is all I have to say about that."

The Grinch Proves True

A childhood Christmas favorite of mine was watching the Jim Carrey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas multiple times between Thanksgiving and Christmas, laughing along to catchy songs and witty lines.

I actually still practice this tradition. I nearly drove my brother crazy during our childhood, and now I nearly drive my husband nuts. Hey, it's tradition!

I remember the first time I saw How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was December in 2000, and my mom and I went out on a mother/daughter date. We went to a theatre in Topeka, and it was packed. I laughed so hard I choked on popcorn, and my mom laughed so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks.

I can quote every line, impersonate all the voices, and laugh every time I watch the movie. I actually wore a VHS out and eventually begged my mom to invest in a DVD version of the Dr. Seuss classic.

But never has the theme of The Grinch impacted me as much as it did this year.

Last night, after my first Christmas apart from my parents but my first Christmas with my Idaho parents, I fell asleep watching The Grinch, snuggled up next to my husband. But also for the first time, I was crying, not laughing.

The Grinch figured it out, and I find myself in total agreement. Take away all the presents, all the fancy dinners and traditions, and Christmas comes anyway.

"'It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags!' And he puzzled. And puzzled. And puzzled some more. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.'"

It's not about the presents. It's not about the food. It's about being with family, with people, in fellowship.

But Dr. Seuss missed one detail, though: it's also about Christ, and Idaho church services richly blessed my heart today as they celebrated the gift of Jesus.

Without writing a short novel, I'll simply say the people of Weippe Wesleyan Church and Eternal Hope Wesleyan Church are walking hands and feet of Christ, and I love them dearly. The Blains, my wonderful in-laws, are the walking hands and feet of Christ, and I love them dearly, too.

We took communion at Eternal Hope today, and I simply wept. There are moments when I am utterly homesick and find myself angry at God for bringing Josh and I 1,800 miles from my family, but there are also moments when I am so sure of God's call that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Today, that peace settled in my heart. While Idaho may not be home to me now, and quite honestly might never be, Bethlehem wasn't home to Jesus, either. And yet he came. Who am I to be angry at God?

Christmas frenzies are stressful, and they drudge up a lot of emotion, but shouldn't they? After all, I'm sure there was a lot of emotion stirring in a little stall in Bethlehem and at the Father's throne when Jesus came to this earth in the form of a baby to bring the world a Savior.

In the words of The Grinch, "I'm feeling!"

And this Christmas will forever be cherished.

Dr. Seuss, you got something very right.

May Christmas Eve Find You Well

Josh and I just spent a wonderful week in Kansas with the Lesslie/Hada clan, and it was refreshing to be in the Mid West again. It blows my mind to realize the stark difference of cultures between Kansas/Oklahoma and Idaho/Washington, but it also kind of makes me smile.

I flew back to Kansas in October to visit family, but this was Josh's first time back for nearly a year (let's just say I've missed it much more than he has!). Who knew Kansans were so friendly!

We are currently sitting in the Seattle Airport, waiting for our last connection to once again greet the fog, coniferous trees, and mountains of our valley. And it will be good to be home.

As I sit and watch (one of my favorite pastimes in airports) I am once again more aware of how richly blessed Josh and I are, not only because we found one another in this world of mates, but also because we share something that makes life so much more worth waking up to: Christ.

As people hustle and bustle from plane to plane, chewing flight attendants and gate workers out, I am in awe of courtesy, or the lack thereof.

When did Christmas become this chaos?

Flying truly reveals how people handle stress, and today we've seen people yell, cut in lines, and flat out break down weeping.

And as I sit in this little corner of the Seattle Airport, I find myself just wanting to be with family, and away from this fast-paced mayhem.

Austin, Josh's youngest brother, just got in from Rome, so I guarantee his flying experience was much more stressful than either of ours this Christmas, so I am looking forward to peace and laughter once we find ourselves with our wonderful Blain clan.

Wherever you find yourselves this Christmas, may the Lord bless you and keep you as you celebrate the birth of our beautiful Savior, and may you overlook the holiday stresses that distract from the real reason of this season.

There And Back Again

Sometimes I feel like Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo Baggins is the hero of J.R.R. Tolkien’s book The Hobbit. In the story, he is recommended by Gandalf the wizard to go on an adventure, as an expert burglar. Only he doesn’t begin as much of a hero - or a burglar - at all. In fact, he has every characteristic of someone who is not a hero. He is small – hobbits only stand about three or four feet tall – not much to contend with men and dwarves and dragons. He is also not very brave. He likes his posh life in his comfortable home. He has never burgled a thing in his life. He was the least likely person that should have gone on the adventure. That is what he thought, and that is what his companions thought. Bilbo Baggins is not of much use, they all said, but Gandalf assured them that he would prove himself more useful than even he knew.

So they set out on their adventure, to go to places that Bilbo has never heard or dreamed of, and to do things that he never could have imagined. He soon becomes a burden to his companions, always getting them into trouble, and causing much more trouble than they think he is worth. Many, many times he wishes that he had never came on the adventure, and that he was back at his home having tea. However, whenever someone grumbles against him, the old wizard Gandalf always says something to the effect that “he has much more worth than you know.” Gandalf saw what Bilbo could be, and believed that he would one day be that person.

Several times Bilbo finds himself alone, in the dark, starving, with no way to find his path again, and he has to make a choice. He can either lay down and die, or he can summon all of his courage, to do something that he has never done before, something that he is terrified of. He has never had a battle of wits with an underground creature, where he faced death if he was outsmarted. He had never battled giant spiders. He had never helped anyone escape from dungeons. Nonetheless, these are the things that he faces, and his only hope is to try with all his might.

In the end, through all of his trials, Bilbo does become the hero that Gandalf said he would be. Even he never thought that he could be that hero, but that was what he became.

Sometimes I feel like Bilbo Baggins.

God has sent me on a great adventure. He has laid a call on my life. He is sending me to do things that I never could have imagined. But sometimes I don’t feel like I have what it takes, and I have all kinds of excuses. “I’ve never done what you’re asking me to do before! I am not who you say I am – you expect too much out of me! I am small and insignificant! I am not brave!” But I followed.

In Habakkuk, God says “For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.” When we first meet the judge Gideon, an angel of the Lord calls him a “mighty warrior,” which at the time, he clearly is not. God sees what we cannot see in ourselves. He sees what we can become, and if we are willing to follow him, we will become that person.

Still, at times I find myself feeling like Bilbo. There are times when I feel like I am more of a burden than a help. There are times when I wish that I was “back at home, having tea.” That is, doing something more easy and comfortable. There are times when I feel totally alone. There are times when I don’t know where the path is. There are times when I feel like I am shrouded in darkness. But, if I am going to follow God, I have to be courageous, and step out boldly against things that I have never faced before. The good news is that those are the very places when I have the chance to become the person that God knows I can be. Romans reminds us of this truth.

““But my righteous one will live by faith.
And I take no pleasure
in the one who shrinks back.”

But we do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved.”
- Romans 10:38-39

I am not perfect. I haven’t mastered this thing called life. I am still on my way to wherever God is leading me. But I know that I have to try. I have to give my best to this God who sees something worthwhile in me.

In the book, after all is said and done, Bilbo writes down all his adventures and he titles them There And Back Again. In the end, when all of his trials are over, he gets to go home. We must always remember that we, too, are headed home.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
- II Corinthians 4:16-18

I was blessed this week by a book that was written 73 years ago for children, and I hope that you, too are blessed.

Until we’re home,

Josh

I Digress...

I am weary.

I think, no, I am convinced I am looking forward to Christmas break more than my students. And they are the reason.

I love them. Truly. They have slipped into my heart and I genuinely cherish them. But some days, enough is enough.

Who ever knew a 5-paragraph research paper was asking for the moon? I missed that moment of reality somewhere along the journey. If those little turkeys would just focus their energy on DOING the paper, instead of trying to talk me into pushing back the due date, they would all be finished by now. Or even yesterday. Or last week.

I slave-drive all day, get home and do homework, then drag my weary body to bed. Sleep a few hours. Wake-up. Tell Josh good-bye. And start over. This routine is getting old.

I write not to claim "Poor me," but rather to remind myself that it probably could be much worse.

I had a parent come in after school today, and I knew it was coming. When I'm a parent, will I automatically think my child is always right? Or perfect? Or brilliant? Someone slap me if that happens. Bring me back to reality.

So here I've sat, churning over the day's events, and I all can claim is, "And I thought yesterday was tough."

I didn't know what tough was yesterday.

And so...I digress. Life might just have to be stinky for a season. Research season.