They got me a chair

Several people have asked me for an update to my autopilot blog: how the kids did, any more problems, etc... The kids were awesome. I really didn't get to see much of the play because I was busy with tasks behind the scenes, but from what everyone tells me, the kids performed beautifully. And then, they gave me a chair... and I could have cried. During the curtain call, they called Mrs. Bailey and I up to the stage, as is customary, and thanked us for our hard work and all that. All of the accolades were given in sincerity, yet that whole process is a formality. They would do that if we had nelgected the kids during the entire rehearsal process. But, then, they brought out a chair. And not just any chair, a barstool height, dark wood director's chair with yellow canvas and my name printed across the back. I just covered my mouth and stared. They got me a director's chair. They thought of it all themselves, found out what my favorite color was, purchased it, had my name printed on it, and brought it here. This was more than just a formality; they strove to do something special for me. This blog isn't doing the moment justice right now, and I will revise this later. but I just wanted those of you who asked to know, they got me a chair, and it was the best night I have had in a long time.

this isn't in my job description...

I have to give my high school teachers credit. I don't think they ever once let on that they would rather be home than with me. From band, to Madrigals, to student council, to speech, to Key Club, Spanish Club, CAPTAINS, etc..., it never occurred to me that my teachers did not love hanging out with us kids.

I'm exhausted this week. If you read this blog regularly, you must think I'm exhausted every week, and there may be some truth to that. However, you must understand that this was Spirit Week in honor of the school's homecoming. As a class sponsor, I was supervising for four hours last night as kids covered fluorescent lights with black crate paper and precariously hung strands of Halloween lights from twisted paper clips stuck in the ceiling. I received the honor of riding the float with the freshmen, making sure their chants were appropriate and did not reflect negatively on the school's image and that they threw nothing, even streamers scrunched into balls with tails, to the adoring elementary school kids. When the complete backdrop to the float fell off mid-parade, I was the one to make sure that nobody got hurt as the kids scrambled after it and jump back on the float. They're pretty quick and agile, I'll give them that.

I did have fun at some points this week, though. The freshman hallway is usually pathetic: a few streamers taped to the wall, a couple of signs proclaiming "Go Team," and a balloon floating around here and there. This year's freshmen were incredible though, earning the praise of sophomores and upperclassmen. Was the hallway the best hallway? Of course not. Was it the best freshman hallway WHS has seen in a long time? Absolutely. And I have to admit that I was energized by my pride in them for awhile last night. When the kids wanted to stay for a couple more hours though, I had no hesitation in saying, no, it's time to go home. It never occurred to the kids that as long as they were willing to keep working, I was not willing to stay at school until 9:00, 10:00, 10:30. Maybe a truly dedicated class sponsor would have stayed with them, but I guess my passion for the kids runs out after four hours of hall decorating.

Tuesday night, as I was cleaning up the concession stand the drama club runs at volleyball games, I kept saying to myself, "It is a privilege to be part of these kids' lives. It is a privilege to be part of these kids' lives." At this point it was about 9:00; water from the soda cooler was leaking all of the way down the hall, around a corner, and to a back door; I still had to lock the candy away; and I was sweeping stubborn salt out of the popcorn machine, which the kids had already supposedly cleaned. After everything was finally put away, I sat with the kids outside for awhile as they waited for their parents to pick them up. I was so tired I felt like crying. Nothing was wrong, nothing was upsetting, I just felt so tired all I wanted to do was cry. But, it is a privilege to be part of these kids lives. And, it is an even greater beauty that they don't realize that I would really rather be somewhere else than selling concessions with them at a volleyball game. They don't realize that I would prefer not to spend Saturdays with them during speech season. They don't realize that I don't want to stay at school until 10:30 decorating a hallway or that I really don't have a whole lot of fun riding with them on a homecoming float. I want it that way. I want them to know I have a lot of fun with them, because I do. Maybe the fun I have is in moments rather than hours, but I treasure these kids and I don't ever want them to think they are a burden in me. It is a privilege to be part of these kids' lives. They are paying attention to me, they are listening to me, and some of them are even talking to me. God just give me the strength to be faithful with this privilege. Help me to communicate how special and worth-while each of these kids are. And give me that energy I need in moments like this, moments in which I feel I don't have anything left to give. That's the miracle I'm asking of right now; give me the strength to pour into these kids another week.

Autopilot

One performance down, one to go. It's 11:00, and I haven't been this exhausted since student teaching, but I need to wind down after the opening night of our high school's fall play, the rush of hoping against missed cues, forgotten lines, and lethargic pace; notifying the cops of kids hanging around smoking pot; scurrying around to take care of ticket money, concessions and money, donations, sticky popcorn machines; and so forth.

I'm running on autopilot right now, and I am kind of scared to come out of it. Serious decisions that have been put off until the play is over will reappear this weekend. The smokescreen of busyness, which my mind distorts into meaning, will disipate. Wow, am I going to need God this weekend. Emotions will be flowing, confusion will be looming, but God will be present and His word will be steady. I'll need that steadiness. Wow, I'm going to need that steadiness.

more drama...

School, tennis shoes for after school, and a mouse. I'll let you fill in the blanks, but I think I have found my inner-screamer.

Drama

To quote a good friend of mine, "I'm having drama." I bought a couch and a loveseat today. They are used but very comfortable and sport a neutral, classy cream and tan upolstry. I am overall very pleased with my purchase, thankful that after two years of waiting for just the right opportunity, I was able to aquire a nice-looking couch for a minimal price. The owner even offered to deliver it for me, which is a huge advantage for me in my four-door Cutlass.

But, now I am having drama. My living room finally has had that "feel" that I've been working for. I have no couch, but there are two "cushy" chairs that just happen to be the same color of burgundy, as well as a rocking chair with floral upolstry that complements the rest of the room perfectly. I have a new vertical chest displaying my favorite pictures, treasured old books, and the nick-nacks and momentos meaning the most to me, and the hope chest I received for my 16th birthday sits along the opposite wall. Somehow (I don't know how), but somehow, it has finally taken on the warm, comforting atmosphere I love to come home to. So, now what am I going to do with these couches? Where am I going to put them? Then, where will I put my vertical chest? What about my hope chest? Which "cushy" chair will have to go the extra bedroom? Will the cream and tan wash out the room while the burgundy helped to add color? Yes, I am having drama.

I remember the first time someone told me that I don't deal well with change. If I hadn't had enormous respect for the person who told me, I probably would have laughed at her. Change? I'm fine with change! Well, I guess I'm not. I'm already mourning my old living room, when I know that the couches will make it so much easier to entertain, have small groups, etc... I know the couches will probably make it even "homier" than it is now. Yet still, I greive the loss, even though it is being replaced by something better. I need a new study Bible. The pages are starting to fall out of my old one, and, it being a life application Bible, I would really rather have a more in-depth study Bible anyway. I wouldn't even have to buy it myself; I'm sure my mom would get it for me for Christmas if I asked her. But, I hate change. I've had that Bible since my freshman year of college. It's been through a lot with me. I don't want to let it go. I could go on.

If you are used to reading my writing, you are probably expecting the metaphor about now. I resist change, but it usually turns out being better than before, yada yada... I know you know that. I know you know about risk, letting go, shedding tears over the old (well, maybe not a living room) and embracing the new. I just have to stand back and laugh at myself sometimes.

Yes, I'm still getting the couches. I usually do go through with the changes that are before me. Just smile at me if you see me hesitate though. It might encourage me a little bit, and I won't be as tempted to look back. You can be sure I am coming. I'm coming; I really am.

Justified

I feel a little justified in the presence of those people who thought I was just plain weird. I would describe to them how, when I was exhausted and wanting to go to sleep, I could not stop moving my legs, and would often have to get out of bed and walk around. Or, I might be lying there and refusing to get out of bed, and I would therefore just bicycle pedal in the middle of my bed, often circulating myself upside down. So, for those of you who thought I was freakish, I just wanted to let you know that there actually is something called restless legs syndrome, acknowledged and treated in the medical community. So there - see, I'm not weird. I need to cut down on my intake of caffeine and exercise more, but I'm not weird. Now, don't you feel silly...