Assumptions

There was a series of situations one evening this last week that ended with me in tears.  Things just kept going wrong and I ended up falling apart with feelings of failure that lingered for most of the rest of the night.

There usually is one night each summer when I reach a breaking point and have a complete meltdown.  However, in the past, someone has always been around to walk through it with me (and I very much miss those people).  But not this year.  This year, no one was there to catch me when I fell.  It was a very lonely realization.  I'm tired of always being the strong one.  It's like everyone has this preconceived notions about me, and they don't want to push me too far, so they don't push at all.  They just leave me alone, assuming I'll be okay.  I project a sense of solidity that is really just a mask to cover up my fears.  Because of this, I feel like everyone has all sorts of assumptions about me, instead of getting to know me.  They take my reluctance to form friendships at face value, instead of pushing further and discovering who I really am.  They assume I don't want/need hugs, friends, conversations, invitations to join in, when in fact that's all I really do need.  I'm doing life alone and everyone assumes I'm okay with it.  And at a certain level, I am.  As I've said before, groups of people make me nervous and large groups actually scare me a little.  But in my deepest heart of hearts, I know we were not created to go through life alone.  We need each other.  It's just a matter of finding one or two people willing to push past the facade and get to know the real me, without getting scared off.  Simple enough, right?

Introversion

I am a painfully shy introvert.  It's a horrible combination, but the truth.  I think I'm getting it figured out, though.  Human being make me nervous.  Real, live, messy human relationships scare me.  As an introvert, I'm a thinker.  I have 10,000 things going on in my mind at any given time.  When I'm in a group of people, I am usually an observer, not a participant (painfully shy, remember?).  So, I'm trying to process everything I'm seeing, and everything other people are saying and doing, and also processing all the stuff in my mind.  It's over-stimulating and overwhelming.  I just can't process everything fast enough.  That's stressful.  And then there's the added stress of keeping it all inside because I really don't have anyone to talk to.

That's where the "painfully shy" thing comes into play.  I don't make friends easily.  I'm too shy to take the first step and initiate.  I wait for someone to approach me, which very rarely happens.  And even then, I initially resist out of fear.  The person has to be committed to befriending me; 9.5 times out of 10 that is not the case.  Hence, I have few acquaintances, even fewer friends, and no true close friends. 

It's a lonely way to go through life.  The question then becomes, why has the God of relationships doomed me to a life of loneliness?  I can't believe that is true.  That's not the God I know.  I've spent the last 29 years pretending that I'm okay with situations and stuff that I'm not okay with, trying to follow the advice that public speaking gets easier that more I do it, thinking that there's something wrong with me because I'm not like everyone else.  I'm done pretending to be someone that I'm not.  How do I stay true to my personality, while not using it as a crutch or excuse to avoid fear-causing situations?

This is a lonely life I'm living, but I refuse to believe that this is it.  There's got to be more to life.  There has to be.  The Bible is full of stories of amazing people with abundant lives filled with purpose and meaning.  I want that.  So, how do I get there?

Life

It has been at least a year since my last post, not because nothing has happened, but because I am lazy.  I moved from Alaska and finally settled elsewhere in the beautiful pacific northwest.  I never did find a full-time teaching position and ended up substitute teaching in two of the school districts in the area.  Dependent on the number of teachers needing subs, it ultimately ended up being a part-time job.  Enough to keep me busy, but not always quite enough to pay all the bills.  I had 2 long car drives in the past 3 days and so I've had a lot of time to think.  This is what I've come up with.

This is a strong statement, and I use it very deliberately: I hate substitute teaching with every fiber of my being.  It is unpredictable and stressful and filled with unknowns - all those things that I am horrible at handling.  God has stripped from my life everything that is stable and predictable.  I literally have nothing and no one left in my life.  I'm standing all alone.  But that is exactly where God has decided that I need to be.  That choice is not God's second choice or someplace that He stuck me because He couldn't make anything else work.  It is God's first choice for me and is borne out of His never-ending, unfailing love.  I don't like it.  I don't understand it.  But that's okay.  God never said I had to enjoy it.  He only calls me to obey.  So, as miserable and lonely as I am, that is what I'm going to do.  I'm going to obey.

And this is the truth that I am holding onto: The God I know is the master of bring good things out of miserable situations.  He *will* redeem this.  I don't know what He's going to do or how or when or how long it will take.  But the only thing I have left to hold onto is that He will.  And it will be good.

A Response to Tragedy

I recognize that, most likely, no one will read this, but I feel the need to publicly express what's rolling around in my heart and mind this morning regarding the tragedy in Connecticut.

Although I know that schools are quite possibly the safest places to be, one of my greatest fears as a teacher is someone coming to school with a gun, intent on doing harm.  That fear was realized for too many people today.  My heart is broken.  There are no words to express how deeply saddened I am at the loss of young lives.

However, many are latching on to this horrific event as an excuse to promote their own gun control agendas.  That, in my mind, is absolutely inappropriate.  First of all, show some respect for those who are mourning.  Give them a chance to grieve before turning their sadness into a political opportunity.  (I regret the fact that they feel the need to politicize this instead of providing comfort and shoulders to cry on, but this is the reality of the world we live in.)  Second of all, this is not a gun control issue.  More stringent gun control would not have prevented this tragedy.  The shooter's mother owned her guns legally, but it did not stop this young man from using those guns to commit an atrocity.  If someone wants a gun to shoot inside an elementary school, or anywhere else for that matter, he/she will obtain a gun, legally or otherwise.  Laws only keep honest people honest.  Those intent on harming others do not, generally, show concern for how many laws they are breaking in the process. 

The issue here is not gun control or safety measures in schools (or lack thereof).  The issue here is not that simple.  The issue here is the hate and anger that was allowed to take root in a broken young man's heart.  A hate that only Jesus can heal.  The senseless loss of life included this young man who was in so much pain that shooting others, and then himself, seemed the only option left.  Oh, how this world needs Jesus.  It's not a simple answer.  It's not a politically correct answer.  But it's the only answer that makes sense.  Jesus is the only hope left to turn to.  Let us use this tragedy not as an excuse to promote our own selfish political agendas, but as an opportunity to share His hope and love with a broken world searching for answers.


P.S.  Just in case you feel the need to be mean: please no angry, argumentative, political, or otherwise disrespectful comments.  They are not welcome and will be deleted.

The Job Search

As some of you know, I decided back in February to not sign the offered contract for next year.  There are myriad reasons, both personal and professional, that all add up to the fact that it’s time to move on; Alaska is not a good fit for me anymore.  Because of that, I am now 10 school days (and 15 days total) away from joining the ranks of the unemployed.  Besides the obvious, there are 2 problems with this: I don’t know where to look, and I don’t deal well with rejection.

I have been told that the sky is the limit, and it really is.  I am not married, have no kids, no significant other, and no attachment with any particular geographic location.  I could literally go anywhere in the world.  For someone who has trouble making decisions, this is not a good thing.  I have narrowed it down to somewhere closer to my family.  That doesn’t really help, though, because there are several states that are closer to Idaho than where I am now: Washington, Oregon, Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, the Dakotas, California, etc.  I’m kind of overwhelmed.  The trouble is not with finding a job.  The trouble is with knowing where to look and how to focus the search. 

I don’t deal well with rejection.  At all.  This is because I tend to take things personally, and this is proving especially true in relation to teaching.  Teaching isn’t just a job or a career for me; it’s a calling.  Being a teacher is part of who I am.  Therefore, when I am told that I am not what they are looking for or I’m not good enough, they are not just rejecting me for the job.  It feels like they are personally rejecting me as a person.  It’s not true, and form letters should be impersonal enough to soften the blow, but they don't.  It’s enough to throw me into a funk. 

Spring is finally making a beautiful appearance in Alaska, but I am having a hard time enjoying because I am so burdened by my inability to find a job, the hassles of moving 2000 miles south, and the inevitable rejection that accompanies a job search.

Iditarod!

January, as a month, is okay.  Sure, we're coming down off a major holiday and all the sugary goodness that goes with it.  But that gives us a fitness goal to focus on.  And there's still enough leftover goodwill in the air that nobody wants to strangle anybody else for a good part of the month.  Then comes February.  The longest, coldest, darkest month ever.  Some might try to tell you that there are only 28 (or 29) days, so it is actually the shortest month.  Don't believe them.  It's all a lie.  February is full of long, dark, cold days followed by long, cold, dark nights, with nothing to break up the monotony.

But then comes the glorious month of March.  It's not the best month ever, but its coming means that February is over and that is something to be thankful for.  Now, for some of you, March might mean the beginning of spring.  Not so much in Alaska.  March is still very much a winter month.  (And so is April, but that's another matter entirely).  Dog sledding is a winter sport, and the fact that we still have enough winter to hold a dog sled race in March says something about our weather.  March is still (very) cold, but the days are longer than the nights, and the whole month seems shorter because there is something to get excited about.  That something is the Iditarod. 

The Iditarod is a 1000-mile sled dog race that runs from Anchorage to Nome each year.  It starts on the first Saturday in March, and ends a couple of weeks later.  There are 25 checkpoints along the way that mushers must check in to, and Elim is privileged to be one of those checkpoints.  We get to see all the teams coming through, and usually time our spring break to coincide with when the majority of the teams are passing. Spring break in itself is enough, but to have it coincide with 60 dog teams running through is pretty cool.

The first teams started coming through on Monday.  I kept an eye on the internet tracker all day, knowing that the first teams had left Koyuk.  From there, it's about 7 hours to Elim.  The kids knew what was coming, and were darn excited.  A gauge of our focus level came right at the beginning of the day.  We were reviewing coins and thinking about the features of each one.  I asked, "Does anyone remember from yesterday whose face is on the quarter?"  Right in front, one little girl piped up, "Jeff King!"  Jeff King is a musher who has won several Iditarods and came out of retirement to run this year.  I knew then and there that we weren't getting anything done that day. 

I let the kids go about five minutes early because the first team was close and they all made a bee-line for the fire hall/armory/checkpoint.  Dallas Seavey was in first place.  He didn't stay long, just long enough to grab his food bags, some straw, and let the vets check his dogs.

He's a young'un!  He loaded those bags onto his sled along with some straw.  Rumor has it, he stopped a couple miles out of the village to rest and snack his dogs instead of stopping in the village.  Something about throwing off the competition.  (It must have worked, because he ended up winning!) 

The vets check every dog at every checkpoint.

Back on the trail to Nome!

We waited around for another half an hour or so because we knew that the next musher wasn't far behind.  Aily Zirkle rolled into town and actually parked her team for a break.  She moved around bedding down her dogs and feeding them, while the vets did their thing.

The crowd started to thin out at this point.  The next musher wasn't expected for at least another hour.  The kids, however, were having a ball.  One of my students is an animal lover, particularly dogs, and I watched her stand motionless watching this team for a long time.

Some other students had another idea for a good vantage point:

Those are big straw bales they are laying on. 

And, of course, no post would be complete without a shot of Maquire the Moose, whom the cameraman was carrying around and letting the kids play with. 

A Christmas in Review

A quick jaunt through the memories of the most recent Christmas holiday, told through pictures.  (It's 2:00 a.m. and I'm sitting in an airport.  Pictures are the best my sleep-deprived mind can do at the moment.) 

Even after the classroom tree is undecorated and taken outside, the memory (and a little more) still remains.

It seems we've had this problem before.  Something about small, old mixers and 5 cups of flour just don't mix well.

Awww.  A clean table! Not for long! (Insert evil cackle here.)

We used every plate she owns and then some.

Note the matching pajama pants.  A Christmas tradition!

This is quite possibly our finest moment. :-)

Apparently, the trend this year was tormenting the dog by tying ribbons to her collar.

This has nothing to do with Christmas, but I found 22 year old pickles in the back corner of a cupboard in the kitchen while I was looking for mint extract.  (I swear my mom has every spice/flavoring/scent/baking whatever known to man, but no mint extract.  How is that even possible?!)

Winding down break by going to lunch with a good friend!