Love Wins

Something hit me this week. Last year, as a first-year teacher, it seemed like everything revolved around God teaching me humility, and grace, and strength. Ashley had to grow and change and mature into Mrs. Blain, and some days were so much less eloquent than others. I hadn't stopped to think about God teaching me love through my call as a teacher, because I thought I was learning love through marriage. Teachers need to have classroom management and structure and consistency. But love?

So many days I feel like I sell my students short, because I can't give them enough (fill in the blank). Time. Energy. Joy. Acceptance. Safety. Hope. Authenticity.

But love?

This year could not be more different from that first year as a high school teacher. I was learning classroom management, and how to deal with cranky parents, and students who didn't want to learn, and co-workers who didn't care about anyone other than themselves. But this year, nothing is about me, really. This year, it's about my students. And love.

The weariness, the brokenness, the vulnerability. I see it so clearly in my students faces, in their actions and their words. I see it in their exhaustion and anger. I even see it in their grades. So many of my students come to school to simply get away from home. The students with perfect attendance seem to be failing their classes. It's not about getting the grades, it's about getting out.

I've been paying attention to my relationship with students. So many of them don't know how to have healthy relationships with anyone, so I try to be intentional about praising them, listening to their stories, showing them it's okay to be angry, but that they have to use words, not actions, to convey that anger. And some days, that is so hard.

I'm seeing my love for these students grow and morph the longer I teach in rural Idaho.

Just when I think I have love figured out, God reveals something new, like with my students. They are so inept at times to show or even accept love; they can't earn it- I simply choose to give it.

And that's how Christ's love is for me. I've been trying to wrap my head around that revelation this week, then tonight, a new thought hit me: God loved me the moment I was born, and that love will be constant until the day He embraces me at His throne. He loves me the same now as He did when I cheated on a spelling test in the first grade, or when I stayed up with a friend and stroked her hair after a break-up, or when I spewed anger at a co-worker. God's love doesn't change, or waver, or get lost amid my own flaws. God hurts when I hurt, and hurts when I sin, but His love never runs out or becomes less.

I want to love like that.

Unconditional, raw, can't-earn-it-or-lose-it love.

Because love wins.

If I can show students that kind of love, then Love really does win, because that kind of love is Christ.

Our world is about to drastically change in Idaho. Don and Patty are moving, and Josh and I will be void of family. I've yelled at God quite a bit these last few months, over many things. My family...miles. Josh's family...change. A baby...loss. My grandma...cancer. Josh's grandpa...Lou Gehrig's. Loneliness. Darkness. Cold.

Some days, I vacillate on one question: Why should we stay?

Force? No. Expectations? No. Certainly not for "scenic" Idaho. I have no loyalties to this dark and gloomy state!

But for Love? For Christ? I'm seeing the unmistakable call placed on Josh's life as Eternal Hope Wesleyan Pastor, and the call placed on my life as CVHS teacher, Mrs. Blain.

Even though I still yell at God, I can't help but feel excitement over being a part of this call, this love.

I pray that Love will spread like wildfire! No pain is wasted, in me, in Josh, in my students, in our church, or our family.

Love wins. And that is worth staying for.

Trick Or Treat!

Well, kids, it's time for the LesslieBlain Odyssey's inaugural Halloween post, so get out your favorite costume and your bowl of goodies. Here goes.

This is the first year that Ashley and I have given candy to trick-or-treaters. I'd like to share a few of our favorite quotes from the kids who visited our house.

As I opened the door to two very young kids, I said "Hi guys!" A three-year-old girl quickly piped back "Hi guys!"

When Ashley asked a girl if she was supposed to be a fairy princess, she confidently replied "No. I'm a fairy princess."

One very eager boy, before we had given him any candy, spouted out "Thank yo-- I mean trick or treat!"

Ashley opened the door to one very short, very stout trick-or-treater who only had visible eyes. She said, "Happy Halloween! Are you having fun tonight?" The candy hunter replied in a deep, not-so-childish voice, "I'm having a great time." That trick-or-treater was no eight-year-old...and he was way more trick than treat.

I even gave out candy to the kids on my bus - as they got off, of course. One fourth grader was so blown away by the gesture that he forgot what holiday it was, and blurted out "Thanks! Merry Christmas!"

Hope you had a great Halloween! See you next time.

Oh, and Ashley and I also found this hilarious. Especially the last video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YQpbzQ6gzs&feature=youtu.be&noredirect=1

Light Shines Through the Darkness

The last few weeks in Kooskia, Idaho, have been dreary. When winter rolls in, so does the darkness.

Living in the valley spurs Josh and I to cherish our quickly fading sunlight.

This morning, we woke up to phone calls, we dressed quickly, then headed out the door.

On the way up the mountain, I noticed today was not a dreary day. It was chilly, so fog was rolling through the hills, but as we continued to drive up, sun beams burst through the fog. The light was present, and the light was warm.

We have a couple in our church. He's 70ish, but you'd never know, and she's somewhere close in age, but even harder to guess.

They're fit- they're active. They travel everywhere. They love people and animals and even put on a church camp for disabled adults and kids. The community has embraced them for nearly thirty years, and our small church has embraced them, too, so the heart strings are rooted deep.

Josh and I are still reeling in shock.

Last night, Beth went to pick apples. The apple season is coming to an end, and Beth hates waste. She talks about the land as a blessing, and being good stewards of the land means using what is provided, not wasting.

Phil wasn't home yet, so Beth loaded up on the new four-wheeler Phil got her for her birthday, rallied up their nine adopted dogs, and made her way to the off-road apple orchard on their property.

It was nearly dark when Phil made his way home. Winter calls darkness in early. He said something just wasn't quite right- some of the dogs were home, but a few weren't, and neither was the four-wheeler.

With tears in his eyes this morning, Phil, still in yesterday's boots and chaps, said "I expected to find her stuck. Not dead."

Beth had gathered five bags of apples, and was on her way home, when somehow, the rig flipped on top of her. And that's how Phil finally found her. He'd searched all over their property, gone to every pond, when one of those three dogs came to him, and then led Phil back to his wife.

Phil said, "Some people are married for years and get tired of each other. We never did."

Saturday, Phil is asking for close friends to come up to the ranch to juice Beth's apples. He said, "If I let Beth's apples rot, she's gonna yell at me in the afterlife! She'll say, 'You wasted my apples!'" I can't think of a better way to hold memorial for this dear woman- it's so Beth.

Darkness may last for a while, and sometimes it seems as though it will never clear, but light bursts through the dreary fog, and brings warmth, and life, and hope.

Church will start in a few hours, and our small body of 25 will tearfully listen as Josh brings a message from the beatitudes.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

God knew even before we did.

Though the darkness may last for the night, joy comes in the morning, and that joy is Jesus, because separation is only momentary.

And Beth wins.

Some Titles Will Forever Be Inferior

The Casting Crowns song "Praise You in This Storm" has been on my heart all week. It has been a song that's been resonating, because for the first time, it's personal.

Josh and I were just to the point of telling family and friends that we were pregnant. We were both so excited. For a brief moment, life seemed so perfect.

But Tuesday morning, I woke up, and didn't feel well. I called in sick, and as the day progressed, thought it might me wise to go to the doctor.

We lost the baby.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

This has been a week of pain- mental, physical, and emotional pain.

If my heart forgets momentarily of the loss, my body reminds me.

I've been yelling at God.

We already lost one baby- I thought surely he was promising this one to us. We would have loved it fiercely. Why is it that women who mistreat their bodies and their babies seem to have child after child, unwanted and unloved? But we can't seem to have one.

One baby.

Just one.

"I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried,
You hold in Your hands
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn,
I'll praise you in this storm"

Northwest Women's Retreat was this last weekend, and our speaker talked about moments like these. She used the illustration of the harvest- the fields specifically. She said sometimes, our lives, the soil, are like clay. The soil is hard and dry, and God has to reach down and break us apart. It's painful. The soil resists, and it hurts. But then God plants seeds. When it is time to water, he takes our tears, and waters those seeds, and the harvest is plentiful. New life- new growth. Hope.

No tears go to waste. And right now, mine are plentiful.

In my moments of rational thought, I know this. But in the moments of my greatest hurt and inability to wrap my head around understanding, I just don't get it.

And then the song comes back to mind.

"I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say 'Amen', and it's still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
'I'm with you'
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away."

God hurts, too. God cries, too. God sees. And he's still with Josh and I. I can't just praise God when life is good. He is worthy of my praise all the time.

God tills, and cultivates. He plants and tends. And then he reaps. And the harvest is plentiful.

I cry out, wondering why God didn't save the baby, but then I see that God did. Because the baby is with him.

My heart aches- and I know Josh's does, too.

But one day, there will be reunion, with our Maker, and two babies.

And that is something to look forward to.

Until then, our tears will be caught in the Maker's hands. The field may be dry now, but moisture is coming, and with that a healthy harvest.

Lord, I don't understand your plan, but I know that it is perfect. I know I do not weep alone, but also that I do not weep in vain. No pain is wasted, nor are my tears. Be the parent Josh and I cannot be. Love our baby.

I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker, of heaven and earth. I am in desperate need of your help to stand, Father.

You are the deliverer, the comforter, the healer, and the lover. Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. And I cling to that promise, sweet Jesus.

Further Insight...

I love teaching...so very much...but some classes are more behaved than others. I think back to what my mentor teacher said during student teaching..."Find one thing to love in every student."

That can be so hard!

My last hour class this year is for language remediation. If you take the one or two kids from every class who are trouble makers, then throw them all into one class at the end of the day, what would you anticipate to be the outcome?

Now multiply that by 1,000.

I've been weary...I've been frustrated...I've even been angry.

Last Friday was quite possibly the worst day, classroom management wise, of my entire teaching experience. It was ugly.

This week, the class structure has been completely changed, and the students have been slightly beaten into submission.

But here's where my heart is in turmoil.

The students were asked to anonymously write three reasons they were misbehaving in the class, or three things about the class that frustrated them.

So many students wrote, "It's not the class that gets me going...it's what I'm thinking about. I'm either thinking about the fight I left to come to school this morning, or the fight that will happen when I get home."

These students have been the hardest to love, and yet they're the ones who need love the most.

Oh, Lord, how often do I fail at expressing the greatness of your face?

My students have been processing and thinking, but so have I. And I have much to change.

On a completely unrelated note, Josh and I have a puppy named Stella...who is a total glutton.

As a 7-week-old puppy, she would gorge her own food, then gorge Ivan's. Ivan has since learned to snarf just as fast as Stella. Stella even ate dogfood filled with ants...and consequently found herself the object of an ant attack. Her beard was loaded with the cranky black insects, and she earned herself a bath. She couldn't even walk correctly because her stomach was bulging and tight.

We knew Stella just couldn't help herself, but she's taken herself to an all-time low.

Stella ate through a zip-loc bag of chocolate cookies. Yes. She did.

And it's time for an intervention.

Suggestions?

We All Have a Story to Tell

My English II students have kicked the year off with "The Pearl," by John Steinbeck. If you've read Steinbeck ("Of Mice and Men," "The Grapes of Wrath," or "East of Eden") then you know how gloomy and raw he can be.

"The Pearl" is all about the pain of wanting a thing too much and the tragedy that thing can befall humanity when it is found. Very seldom does life work the way it was intended, and humanity becomes animalistic and broken.

This particular Steinbeck work revolves around the journey of a native Mexican family who find the pearl of the world amid great poverty, then have to fight to keep that pearl and risk everything. As the story begins, the native roots focus strongly on tradition and culture. The protagonist, Kino, lives by the beat of the Song of the Family, a song his father and grandfather lived by, but occasionally, the Song of Evil creeps in.

I asked my sophomore students to pen their songs... What beat do they march to? What defines them? What sets them apart? What rhythm might their life song take?

The honesty of several students shocked me. Some of my students are broken and weary.

Here are a few of the songs that stood out.

"My song would involve a lot of pain and anguish. It would scream instability as well as misunderstanding. Their wouldn’t be a light at the end of the tunnel, no happy ending, and certainly no signs of family. In my song I would be alone facing the problems of the world, experiencing no mercy or remorse, just pain and anguish. My mask may be impenetrable but my song is raw and vulnerable."

"My song would probably be a mix of sadness and happiness. I’m generally a happy person but then again, I’m sad at times also. It’s usually easy to tell when I am sad about something. But the majority of the time my song is a happy one which I’m guessing that is what a lot of peoples songs are. My music would mainly be a mix of slow music and rap or something in that area."

"My song would be about… a happy, but troubled girl who tries not to show the troubled side of her. So she tries to fit in. She is a small girl with a big personality, but doesn’t know what to do with her personality (meaning how to make it have a purpose in her life). She is scared, it’s part of her troubled side, same with her past, so she hides that along with everything else she is holding inside from the world. She wants to not care anymore, but puts up with too many judging people. She’s a cute young lady who is clean cut, but on the inside she is a mess. One of her favorite things to do is listen to songs she can relate to, and think about the lyrics. The beat would be slow, a soft tune, not depressing, but one that makes you think. It would be one of those nice slow songs by John Mayer or He is We. You could even put it as a rap, but it would relate more to Indie."

"My song is a very different one. As I walk around and move about my day, there is a beating drum faintly in the background playing endlessly. And then when something strikes my emotions, whether it be for good or bad, a bass guitar and electric guitar join in with the drum changing the tempo of my day. What happens next is entirely dependent on the day, the people, and what is happening. Because at that moment there is a silence. Then all at once every instrument starts up loudly, capturing my attention and the words vary on what is happening. It could be a song of idle bliss, or a song of utter chaos and anger. Sometimes it turns into a song with an underlined meaning that hides from plain sight, building up and up until it almost bursts into a song of panic and sadness, with anger and hate exploding from my soul. And then all at once, everything goes silent."

"My song, I would have to say, is the Song of Difference. Why? I’ll tell you. My whole life I never fit in with all the other kids because I choose to be who I am and not who others choose to make me into. I am independent! I am proud! I am me and no one will change it. I don’t’ care what others think of me or the names I’m called. What I care about is myself and the people who choose to accept me how I am. My song sounds rebellious, almost metal but more of a postcore style.

"My song is the song of peace. One of the things I cherish most is when everyone gets along, with no fighting or rudeness towards others. Also, in my song I am for standing up for others. I could live my whole life being there for people. If it is for friends, family, strangers or enemies. If they need help I am there. My song would be fast with the sound of laughter in it. It would have a lot of percussion in it. I would listen to my song morning and night and when I am down or sad."

One student mentioned the band He is We. Here is one of the band's songs I stumbled upon today, which has surprisingly striking lyrics.

Happily Ever After
He is We

Let me riddle you a ditty, it's just an itty bitty, little thing on my mind.
About a boy and a girl, trying to take on the world one kiss at a time.
Now the funny thing about, ain't a story without it, but the story is mine.
And I wish you could say, that it ended just fine.

We all want to know, how it ends.

Oh, happily ever after, wouldn't you know, wouldn't you know.
Oh, skip to the ending, who'd like to know, I'd like to know.
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?

Inhale, breathe steady, exhale, like you're ready, if you're ready or not.
Just a boy and a girl gonna to take on the world, and we want to get caught.
In the middle of a very happy ending, let's see what we've got, let's give it a shot.
Let's give it a shot.

We all want to know, how it ends.

Oh, happily ever after, wouldn't you know, wouldn't you know.
Oh, skip to the ending, who'd like to know, I'd like to know.
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?

We all have a story to tell.
Whether we whisper or yell.
We all have a story, of adolescence and all it's glory.
We all have a story to tell.

Oh, happily ever after, wouldn't you know, wouldn't you know.
Oh, skip to the ending, who'd like to know, I'd like to know.
Author of the moment, can you tell me, do I end up, do I end up happy?

We all have a story to tell.
We all have a story to tell.
We all have a story to tell.
We all have a story to tell.

These kids really all do have a story to tell, and some of them have lived entire lifetimes in their fifteen years.

I catch myself saying, "God, why am I here!" I can get so angry, and lonely, and tired.

And then I get a glimpse of how my students feel. And I'm convicted. Because I know Love, and I have hope, and eternal joy is coming!

What better place to be then here, where students are hungry for hope, and joy, and Love?

Kooskia, Idaho may be broken, but He is whole.

Refreshing Wisdom

My father-in-law, Don, is turning fifty. Tomorrow! The joy of birthdays ebbs and flows, but fifty should be a memorable one. Josh and I had dinner with Don and Patty, as well as an older gentleman, Harold, from the Weippe church.

Dinners with Don and Patty are always a bit reviving for me. There aren't many people I feel free to let my hair down with here, and Josh is kind of in the same boat. When you become "the pastor" or "the teacher," the circle of trust shrinks a bit. I don't know if that happens to everyone, but it sure has happened to us, so we relish the moments when we can be real.

Sitting around a card table on our porch, waiting to eat food from Dutch ovens, laughing back and forth as we shared stories, Harold was asked to pray for the food.

"Lord, today was a good day. And you've given us lots of good days. Thanks for saving us..."

Harold finished praying, then he told us a story.

Back in Harold's youth, he knew a man who turned every opportunity into a "God moment."

This un-named friend was out late one evening, and someone tried to rob him. With a gun in his ribs, Harold's friend began to laugh. The robber said, "What's so funny," and the man reached around to his wallet, opened it, and showed the robber just how much money he had: zero.

Harold's friend asked the robber if he'd like to come up to his apartment for some food. "I don't have any money, but I've got food, and you're welcome to it."

Harold said they talked late into the evening, and by 4:00 in the morning, the robber was on his knees yelling, "Lord! Save me!"

And then Harold said something that is still echoing around in my brain.

"How many opportunities do we miss? How many opportunities have I missed?"

And me as well.

How many?

A man who tried to rob Harold's friend found Christ on the floor with the man he tried to rob. I've snubbed people for far less.

Harold gave me a new perspective on ministry tonight. And it's hard. But again I say, God never promised that it would be easy, as I am finding with most things in this life. Yes, some seasons are smoother than others, and some people are easier to love, but that shouldn't halt ministry, and it shouldn't staunch Love.

Today was a good day. It may not have been my birthday, but I'll cherish this one.

Lord, thanks for saving us.