Behind the Mask

As an elementary teacher, I spend 180 days with my students each year.  And without fail, I can tell you the 2 craziest days of those 180 will be Halloween and Valentine’s Day.  On Valentine’s Day there is a “love potion” of sugar and giggles and flattering cards exchanged that brings out a crazy side of every child.  On Halloween there is the excitement of the costume, the anticipation of candy, and the chance to- for one night- be the hero or princess you always wanted to be. 

It tends to start in late September… the rumors of who they are going to dress up as for Halloween.  And soon you hear about trips to Stuff*Mart and Party Metropolis to pick up the accessories and costumes necessary for the transformation.  Many little girls want to be a beautiful princess complete with tiara, sparkly eye shadow, and sash that comes untied 947 times throughout the one dress-up day.  Boys want to be a super hero from their favorite comic book or movie and are THRILLED by the thought of making you guess who they really are behind the mask. 

I remember the excitement of putting together my costume each year.  My mom wasn’t one to go and buy costumes for us- we usually created something by digging through the “days gone by” in her closet.  For me that was more thrilling than anything we could have bought.  I loved having the chance to wear a skirt over top of the crinoline slip from her wedding dress- it made me feel like the belle of the ball.  I loved discovering the treasures of her closet when she brought out her high school letter jacket for me to be a cheerleader, or polyester and printed leisure suits from her teenage years in the 70’s.  The creativity of taking these items and turning them into a “costume” was a challenge that I loved to tackle each year.  It let me, for one night, pretend to be something I was not.  And the anticipation for that night was huge- I couldn’t wait for the chance to show up and shine in that identity.  My younger sister went as her hero, Garth Brooks, for at least three years.  See she did not want to grow up to be a country singer, she literally though she could BE Garth Brooks.    There just really was something special about how you felt in that costume.  It gave you just a little more confidence in yourself, a little more spring in your step, and a little escape from your “everyday” life as a kid. 

The Wilson Girls do Halloween, circa 1994

I will admit, since I am an elementary teacher, I do still try to put together a fun costume as a favorite story book character for the annual dress up day at school.  But the older I get, the less exciting it is.  Probably because, if I am really honest, I now put on my “mask” far more often than just one day in October.  If I am stressed or feeling less than confident, I will reach for a lipstick that is a shade darker or bolder- it is something to hide behind.  (Just wait- during spring standardized testing at school you will see me in Powerful Pink every day haha!)  I will fluff my hair just a little bigger than usual and hold my chin up and smile as I give myself a pep talk in the mirror that I CAN tackle what this day is throwing at me even when (no-especially when) I don’t think I have it in me.  There is just something about putting on the “mask.” 

The difference between the child in the costume, and me behind the “mask” is the motivation for the alter identity.  As a child, the costume is a sign of who you want to be and how you potentially see yourself.  As an adult, (for me at least) it is something to hide behind when I’m not secure in who I am.  I need to learn to shift my vision back to what I saw as a little girl- when I aspired to claim an identity, not hide from one.  I need to remember that my identity is found in Christ and who He is making me through Him- and oh how I want to put on that identity daily.  I don’t have to hide behind a mask or a costume to be a child of the King, bought with the highest price, chosen, set apart, called, made in His image, and lavished in His love.  And here is the best part, through Him, I can put on that identity every day- not just once a year.  Thank you, Lord, for letting me wear the identity that you have created for me… and thank you for bright lipstick so I have the confidence to claim that identity when I look in the mirror.  😉

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.  Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known.  But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see him as he is.      

1 John 3: 1-2

The Waiting Place

I have a love/hate relationship with waiting.  I love waiting to start something I don’t really want to do, but I hate waiting for things that I’m excited about.  I know people who look at a job they dread- and they just tackle it head-on.  They like to get it accomplished and get it over with.  I admire them, but I can’t say that I am one of them.  Papers that are easy to grade I jump on first, but the detailed tedious assignments are the last pile I attack for the day.  Laundry that has to be very carefully sorted for “gentle” cycle and certain pieces then pulled for “lay flat to dry” is always the last load done for the weekend.  Those three annoying dishes that require extra scrubbing will sit longer, and the mopping will wait an extra week (or two). I’m REALLY good at waiting to the do the things I DON’T want to do.  But the things I want…. Those are hard to wait for. 

I still love Christmas, though these days it is because I love gift GIVING much more than the receiving.  In 10 years of marriage, I STILL don’t think I have ever waited all the way until Christmas morning to give (A) his gift… I just can’t wait.  If I buy a new outfit for a special occasion I end up “trying it on” around the house 3 evenings in a row before the event because I just can’t wait to wear it and have to pair it with just the right accessory combo.  If I am cooking dinner, I am usually still snacking around as I cook because I just can’t wait to eat.  I’m not very good at waiting. 

My husband says I’m very good at making him wait.  For years he has claimed that he has spent half his life waiting on me.  I have always told him that was a HUGE exaggeration… but now that we have been together literally almost half his life my argument isn’t going to hold water much longer, because in all that time I can count on one hand the times I have been ready before him… in the end he usually is waiting on me.  I may have even been ready to go first, but just had to start one more project, or retouch my hair one more time, or change in to one different outfit… It really is a wonder he married me.  When we were dating there were many times I remember I didn’t even come in from the barn to start getting ready for our date until he was already there to pick me up.  He sometimes spent almost an hour sitting in the living room being “entertained” by my youngest sister while I got my act together and got rid of the “barn smell.”  I knew then, the man had the patience of Job and I better hang on to him.

That being said, it is hard for me to hear the directive to “wait” when it comes from God.  I like to know what the plan is, I like to know what is going to happen next, and I like to know how to be prepared for it.  I do NOT like to just wait.  But sometimes, that is what God is asking us to do.  

One of my all-time favorite Dr. Seuss books is Oh the Places You’ll Go (Random House, 1990).  I find it inspiring and motivating and I love reading it to students to make them think about how they can face the future.  But in that book Dr. Seuss describes what he calls “a most useless place… The Waiting Place…”  In the waiting places “everyone is just waiting.”  And as you read the book he cautions the reader not to get stuck there where people are waiting on trivial things without moving forward.  Because my personality type is (in the words of my son) “go, go go,” I have always held kind of a Dr. Seuss attitude toward waiting… it is NOT something I want to get stuck doing.  But sometimes, that is exactly where God needs me to be- in His waiting place. 

Kind of how I picture the waiting place... 

In her book, You’re Already Amazing (Revell, 2012) author Holley Gerth (I seriously LOVE this chic’s books!!) talks about some of the reasons God tells us to wait.  She says sometimes it is because we are weary and need to heal, sometimes it is because He is preparing us for what lies ahead, and sometimes it is simply because He says “it is just not time yet.”  But I love her encouragement when she says this:

              “Whatever the reason, use this time to rest and receive the truth your heart needs for the journey.  You are loved.  God has a purpose for you.  He is working out his plans for your life.”

She also reminds readers that

              “…what it’s like to be in the mysterious middle- of circumstances, of unmet expectations, of the journey from Egypt to Home.  When we’re right in the ‘middle’ of life, we can take comfort in knowing we’re right in the center of God’s hands too.”

Sometimes the Waiting Place is exactly where God needs me to be, I just have to learn to be patient.  I have to learn to listen to why He has me in that place.  Right now, I honestly believe it may be for many reasons.  I know I am weary, I know I need to heal, and I know He has to prepare me for the next leg of the journey- but even knowing that I often need His reminders to be patient through the process.   I know, it my humanity, that waiting is hard, but I cling to His promise:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”   Ecc. 3:11

And I am exciting to see what that looks like as He makes it beautiful… in fact, I can’t wait! 😉

              

Through the Lens

Last week, my sister was riding in the car with me as we headed to take (a) on a pumpkin patch adventure.  We were visiting and laughing and I couldn’t help but notice as I was driving just how BEAUTIFUL the fall leaves were on this gorgeous sunny day.  When I said something to her about it, she gave me kind of a “huh?” and I responded by telling her how impressed I was with the colors.  The trees were WAY prettier than we had at home, and we don’t live all that far from each other!  She again gave me kind of a quizzical look, and so I slipped off my sunglasses to look back at her.  It was then I realized… the leaves were BARELY starting to turn it all, they only had a very slight tint of yellow to them, it was actually my orange/gold tinted sunglasses lenses that were blending with the very slight yellow to make the leaves look BRILLIANT.  In reality, the colors were not very vibrant at all, and definitely no different than home.  The lens I was looking through was what made the colors appear as I saw them.  We had a good laugh about it (I promise my natural hair color is brown, but I know sometimes my sisters wonder…) but it gave me some food for thought.   The lens we look through has a lot to do with our perspective on life.

Sunglasses on, Pumpkin Patch ready!

 

It’s true for so many things in life, even silly ones.  I am a Purdue University graduate, so I notice cars with Purdue plates more than others.  I own a small business on the side, so I notice when people use the products made by our company.  I love to be girly, so I pay attention to the shoes, jewelry, purses, make-up, and hair of other women. 

The lens of life experience also seems to “tint” my vision.  I have some medical history that led to a time in our lives where (A) and I did not know if we would ever be able to have children.  At the time we were very private about the situation, and did not share this with many people.  However, the constant question of “When are you going to have babies!!??” or the reminders that “You aren’t getting any younger!” or “All your friends are having kids, why won’t you have a baby!?” wore on me heavily.  Because my lens of that question brings back pain, it nearly makes me sick anytime I hear someone ask the same question of another couple.  Through the lens of the person asking the question it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but through my lens perspective I want to SCREAM “Don’t you know that could be the most painful question on the planet that you just asked!!??? Don’t you know they may DESPERATELY want to have babies and they are well aware that they are not getting any younger?!  They may be thinking the same thing… ALLLL our friends are having babies, why won’t OUR bodies let us have a baby.” 

My life experience lens also tends to make me naïve at times.  I was raised in a home with two parents who still love each other 37 years into marriage, who took me to church every Sunday, who expected us to work hard, use our manners, do our best, and never give up.  We sat down to dinner as a family most nights (harvest season was sometimes an exception haha), we talked about what was happening in our lives, and we knew that if we were in trouble at school there would be more trouble at home.  I have parents who love/loved us through any situation we were facing and meant it when they said they would carry us through.  It was an amazing lens to grow up looking through, but it often blindsides me as a teacher.  I can’t comprehend what it is like to be raised in the homes of some of my students when they share devastating stories, when parents walk away, when no work ethic is being instilled at home, when they don’t feel loved unconditionally… my lens was so different I don’t know how to look through theirs.

My little boy has a lens of wonder and amazement at the simple things in life.  While on fall break last week, we spent an hour one afternoon at the playground together.  I LOVE to watch how carefully he examines so many things and how exciting the littlest things can be to him.  He picked up a leaf, kept turning it over and over and then exclaimed “WHOOAAAA!!!” Next, it was a stick that he kept holding up, looking at from different angles, and then announced “Stick!! Wow!” And I think… through his little lens all those things are AMAZING.  Where did my vision or lens change that I don’t see those same things in the same ways?  Is it time to have my “eyes” checked?

I will admit, there have been a lot of days lately where I honestly have not been ok.  Through the lens of those days even things like ink stains on a shirt, a long drive in the car, or the realization that there is no nursery are enough to send me straight to tears and break my spirit for the rest of the day.  I have to change the lens I look through and find the one that makes gratefulness vibrant, the one that makes the love of my family stand out, the lens that reminds me that God is in control.  And I’ll be real, some days I just can’t do it… I can’t find a lens to make pain less painful, to make a process less difficult to face, to make a dark spot seem more light…

But I do know this, I am loved by the ONE who has perfect vision, and is the only one whose lenses see everything in perfect clarity.  And I know that He has our little family in the palm of his hand.  We just have to trust Him, and look at our life through the lens of His love. 

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal”     2 Corinthians 4:18

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.”    Isaiah 55:8

Choose Joy

Parenting has taught me LOTS of things.  Don’t ever leave the bathroom door open, little people can eat lots of food, take a change of clothes, trust your nose, small=quick, it is possible to love even more than you knew, you will never get it all figured out, joy is not dependent on circumstances, and so much more…. But that little part about joy has been a big lesson to me.

It seems that no matter what is going on, that little boy can find joy in it.  Whether we are eating, riding in the car, playing outside, eating, dancing around the house, reading books, eating, cuddling, playing on his rocking horse, eating, building with blocks, working puzzles, eating, or even sleeping… he finds a way to make it fun and put a smile on his face.  It doesn’t always start out “happy,”  he may fall down and scrape his knee, his shirt may get wet (which he is NOT a fan of), he may run out of food, but even still, he finds a way to enjoy what it going on- and that is INFECTIOUS- no matter what the circumstances.

I have learned that being happy and being joy-filled really are two different things.  Happy is often dependent on how things are going- we all got out the door on time, everyone grabbed breakfast, the outfit I wanted to wear was clean, all my students are present so I’m not going to chase down make-up work, the sun is shining, the temperature is just right, I got in a solid run, I had time to fix dinner, I got to go to bed early… all those things make me happy.  But the reality is they happen less than 1% of the time and the chances of all those things happening on the same day…. well that is too small of a number to calculate!  Instead, I watch my son as a reminder to CHOOSE JOY.  Joy is that hope deep within, that tells me no matter what- the Spirit of God is dwelling inside of me and I will not be crushed.  Joy says even on the hard days I will remind positive, because I know God is in control.  Joy says when things aren’t going right, look around and find pleasure in the little things.  Joy takes inventory of what cannot be taken from me and makes that a reason to thank God even when other things are gone.  After all, joy is a fruit of the spirit- and if we allow the Spirit to guide us, joy is going to shine through no matter what. 

“May the God of hope fill you with all JOY and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”   Romans 15:13

This past Friday I received one of the most precious and humbling pieces of artwork I have ever seen from a student.  She had taken time out of her evening on Thursday to draw this picture of me.  She made sure to point out that she added my “haystack hair” (that alone I find an adorable and hilarious description of my need for big hair) and she gave me quite a “tan.”  But the words were precious to me… “You are so bright the sun itself turns jealous.” 

As I hugged her and thanked her and wiped away a tear all I could think was “Oh baby girl, that’s all Jesus.”  There are so many days I do not feel like I am shining, but I’m so very grateful that his Spirit finds a way to shine through even when I don’t feel “happy.”  And it is always my prayer, that Jesus shining through, is what those 22 kiddos see in my every day.  Even when I am not “happy” with them for leaving trash on the floor, and talking through the entire math lesson, and spilling a water bottle on the floor, and being impatient with their computers- I pray they will still see JOY shining out of me.  The joy of the SON that is so bring the SUN itself is jealous. 

“Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”  Matthew 13:43a

Today, and everyday, I choose JOY.  

Little Things

I will admit, sometimes I am crazy busy and pretty stressed, and when I am I often overlook “the little things.”  On weeks like this one where I am juggling work, appointments, parent teacher conferences, family obligations, heightened stress levels, and hoping to feed my family something slightly more nutritious than frozen pizza- I am just not spectacular at noticing small details or simple gestures.  But the last few days I have been given precious reminders… sometimes those “little things” really are the big things. 

While (A) had some work obligations this past weekend, (a) and I spent a couple days at the farm with my family and my grandparents who were in from out of state.  On my Saturday morning run I let myself literally run, down memory lane.  I have gone up and down that stretch of county road hundreds of thousands of times in my life… and in the early cool of the quiet sunshine on Saturday morning I allowed myself to remember those times. 

When I was a little girl my mom and I would walk down the road to the main part of the farm to check in with dad.  We would stop and smell the honeysuckle, pick milkweed and Queen Anne’s lace, and I remember that it could NOT go in the house because my Momma didn’t want ants…. Sometimes the little things really are the big things.  When I was learning to ride my bike, it was the pinnacle of achievement when I was deemed safe enough to ride from the house to the barns at the main part of the farm.  As I entered jr high, my grandfather was battling full blown Alzheimer’s Disease and my daily trip up the road included stopping that their house to pick up Papaw on the ATV so he could go with me to water cows.  It wasn’t a taxing chore on either of us, but it was precious time together.  Him feeling as if he was still contributing to the farming operation, and me learning how to reverse the roles of care.  It wasn’t a big deal to me… but sometimes the “little things” are the big things.  As a teenager, I hauled all kinds of farm equipment up and down that stretch of road, and I will always remember how much I enjoyed those long hours in the tractor lost in my thoughts and singing loudly to the songs on the radio.  There were even a few times I hit that stretch of road REALLY early in the morning because (A) and I had been to the late movie the night before, and I knew that if I wanted to be allowed to go on another date with that cute guy from the next county over I better prove that I could “roll early” the next morning to be at work even after being out late.  When I went away to college, that stretch of road came to mean even more- because while I loved what I was doing the time I spent at home was all the more precious.  And as I have grown to an adult with a family of my own, the stretch of road always brings me back to safely, security, roots, faith, family, life’s important lessons… all those “little things” that really are the big things.  As I allowed myself all those memories this past weekend I couldn’t help but realize that all those “little things” are what made me who I am.  They make up the biggest parts of me. 

Later that same morning (a) wanted me to go with him to “see baby cow” as he put it and check on “Doc” (my sister’s horse).  As I watched him lead me around the farm and jabber at me like it was the first time I had ever been there and he was the official tour guide- I have to admit, I wiped away a few tears.  Just the “little things” like watching him climb the gate the same way I used to and how excited he was to “see cows” made me realize that those little moments together really are the big things, the things that matter. 

The last few weeks our family has received so many cards, calls, texts, messages, invitations, and words of encouragement.  I know that to the people who extended those things it felt like something small… but sometimes the “little things” really are the big things.  Today one of my dearest friends kept (a) for the day and when she returned him he was also accompanied by a hot dinner prepared for our family because she knew I’m a little overwhelmed right now.  Because I know her heart, I know she thought those were little things, but to me they were big things that meant more than I could even tell her.  And it made me think again… that I need to stop- even in the busy weeks- and pay attention to the “little things.”  Because more times that I realize, the little things really are the big things.

 He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. ³² Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”  Matthew 13:31-32