Boldly getting started

I've been thinking for some time that I want to do a study of Proverbs 31. Rephrase. I need to do a study of Proverbs 31. I want with all my heart to be considered to be like the woman described in those verses.

I thought of starting it in the new year. A project to start off a new season of my life. But if I feel called to do this, why am I waiting until January? This is the bold obedience that I am learning about and trying to apply. Delayed obedience is immediate disobedience in God's eyes - one of the girls in our small church group quoted that today. It stuck.

So here we go - a study of the Proverbs 31 woman. What am I hoping to get from this?  A deeper understanding of what God expects of me. A knowledge of how to be a God honoring wife and mom one day. Ways to apply it to my life now.

Here's my study text in it's entirety, let's get started...

 The Wife of Noble Character
^{10 [b]}A wife of noble character who can find?
   She is worth far more than rubies.
¹¹ Her husband has full confidence in her
   and lacks nothing of value.
¹² She brings him good, not harm,
   all the days of her life.
¹³ She selects wool and flax
   and works with eager hands.
¹⁴ She is like the merchant ships,
   bringing her food from afar.
¹⁵ She gets up while it is still night;
   she provides food for her family
   and portions for her female servants.
¹⁶ She considers a field and buys it;
   out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
¹⁷ She sets about her work vigorously;
   her arms are strong for her tasks.
¹⁸ She sees that her trading is profitable,
   and her lamp does not go out at night.
¹⁹ In her hand she holds the distaff
   and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
²⁰ She opens her arms to the poor
   and extends her hands to the needy.
²¹ When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
   for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
²² She makes coverings for her bed;
   she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
²³ Her husband is respected at the city gate,
   where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
²⁴ She makes linen garments and sells them,
   and supplies the merchants with sashes.
²⁵ She is clothed with strength and dignity;
   she can laugh at the days to come.
²⁶ She speaks with wisdom,
   and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
²⁷ She watches over the affairs of her household
   and does not eat the bread of idleness.
²⁸ Her children arise and call her blessed;
   her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many women do noble things,
   but you surpass them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
   but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
³¹ Honor her for all that her hands have done,
   and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

Hypothetically Speaking

Ever stage conversations in your head? Plan the whole dialogue in your mind, knowing what you'll say (which always seems to come so eloquently) and miraculously knowing how the other person will respond (apologetic and clearly seeing what you say is nothing short of the truth). I've become an expert at these lately. Call me crazy, but I've been having these potential talks in my brain every day for the past few weeks. There are so many questions I have, but more than that, so many things I would say if I had the chance.

But why wait for that chance? Do I really want to go back there to make that conversation a reality? When this new season in my life started, I was relieved. Ready to start fresh. Looking forward to what came next. But that initial enthusiasm has worn off, and I feel myself slowly backing up.

Over the past few weeks at Elevation, Pastor Steve has been teaching about Hebrews 12. I've lost count of how many times I've watched the first video podcast of the series. I'm trying to surround myself with the things of God, with books, scripture, music, sermons, prayers. I'm trying to lean solely on Him, to flood my thoughts with what He has to say, hoping it will drown out the other conversations that are trying to take over.

The first sermon focuses on the first three verses of the chapter:

 ¹ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Pastor Steve touches on an idea based on the second half of verse one that really spoke to my heart. The writer of Hebrews says let us throw off everything that hinders AND the sin that so easily entangles.  There are two different things here that I am being told to let go of. Pastor Steve clarifies by saying"...there are some things that hinder me that are not even sins, but I still have to get rid of them".  There were aspects of my past that were sinful and I struggled with letting them go, but now it seems like I'm not holding on to a sin, but rather that first statement; things that hinder. My memories, my questions, my hypothetical conversations - they are hindering me from fixing my eyes on God. I've having those conversations rather than having conversations with the only One who can truly calm and reassure my heart.

I got rid of physical representations of hindrance today. Old photos, keepsakes. And this time they are not tucked away in a box on the highest shelf of the closet. They are totally gone. I'm hoping that by doing this, the emotional and mental hindrances aren't too far behind. God took me out of the relationship that hindered. Now I'm trying to do my part.

God isn't trying to hurt us by taking things away, He tries to untangle us to give us something better.

Untangling sucks. But my heart would much rather be in conversation with the One who loves unconditionally and has a plan for something better, than pretend to talk to someone who can't give any satisfying explanations.

Elevation

When my sister and I travelled to North Carolina last Easter, we were blessed with the opportunity to attend a serivce at Elevation Church. I have since been downloading the sermons of the Pastor Steve Furtick and listening whenever I get the chance. It never ceases to be amaze me how good God is. He has led me to a church that speaks to my heart and is helping heal my spirit. Despite being unable to physcially attend a service on a Sunday morning, I am able to worship alongside their incredible music leaders and be spiritually challeged as I listen to sermons on iTunes each week.  This church has truly been a blessing to me and I will be forever grateful to my God for the healing He has provided for me through this place.

Something I need to be more diligent of is spending time reflecting and praying about the truths with which God has presented me. I am hoping that by putting my reflections out into the blogosphere I am kept accountable to this. Even if no one is reading, I know Someone will be looking forward to each new post.

Another Song for Today?

This one a little more hopeful. In a perfect world, this would have been the open arms response I would have received instead of the slammed door reaction I did get.

Maybe one day.

Song for Today: Apologies

Expresses the perfect sentiment. Enjoy.



Dis/honesty

In my most recent of relationships, mistakes were made on my part. I betrayed the trust of the person I loved most because I chose to seek out the good in another. I put faith in this individual who I considered a friend. He ended up manipulating my openness. I placed myself in a vulnerable situation of which he quickly took advantage.

I chose to be honest with my partner. Honesty's the best policy, even when it's the hardest choice, right?

My truthfulness led to a prolonged break up. I knew it was coming, but I worked so hard to try to gain back the trustworthiness I had lost in his eyes. Neither of us was ever able to confront this other person, and so I bore the brunt of all my love's anger, disappointment, disillusion, as well as my own.

Five months I spent terrified that each day would be the last one I spent with him, because he could not forgive or let go of the pain I caused. I prayed tearfully every night that God would soften his heart, would show him how to graciously love me unconditionally. God who told me to pray to him earnestly and without ceasing, because he knew the desires of my heart. Hate to admit, but I'm kind of disappointed in him too.

So now it's done. I told him he could hold on to me or my mistake. He chose my mistake.

And the one I had chosen to trust, who I believed was a friend? Last I checked, his life is flawlessly intact. Those whom he loves and cherish still surround him. I'm confident in saying that he hasn't breathed a word of what happened between us to a soul, much less to the ones he loves so much.

How is it possible that the world I live in punishes honesty and rewards a lie?

One of my favourite bloggers posted this a few days ago. I find comfort in her words and I am trying to take them to heart, but I don't know that forgiveness and grace are a part of me right now. The bitterness which has taken residence in my heart seems quite comfortable for the time being.

Waiting

It's been quite a while since I last blogged any thoughts. I suppose I've had someone to vocalize them to, and so the theraputic need to write disappeared for a while. But here I am, back again :)

Today I went for a drive to see some houses. I've fallen in love with a new development of homes I stumbled upon on my drive home from church last week. They are close to my family's house, but far enough that if I chose to live there I would still have a sense of independence, and not just that I moved into my parents' backyard.

As much as I love these homes, I am beginning to question why I am looking into moving out. Is it because I am really ready to be on my own? Or just because I am tired of waiting for some other future to come along? I'm not sure.

I believe I am old and wise enough to handle a home on my own. I am excited to have a place that is mine, walls to paint whatever colour I desire and a fridge to fill with my groceries. A frontyard to plant flowers in and a backyard to host summer barbecues with friends. I just didn't think I would be investing into a home for one.

I want to do so many things. Find a job that I love. Travel to Europe. Possibly Africa? Buy a house. Get married. Have lots of babies. Okay, max 4 kids, but that's besides the point. I just feel like I can't start on 99% of these futures because they depend on another person.

It is arguable that I can do most these things on my own. But do I really want to? Or is driving through the beautiful suburbs of this quaint town and pouring over real estate listings just an older version of an  impatient child's stubborn hissyfit. Maybe I am just hoping that if I pout long enough the other side will cave.

Skittles, Paul & A Song

It seems everyone has their two cents to offer when it comes to defining love. It only take a brief scroll down my most recent Facebook news feed to find declarations and opinions on the topic in a variety of formats. The young teenage girl whose relationship status has gone from Single to In a Relationship to It's Complicated in the matter of a weekend. Doting parents who upload album after album with moments in their young child's life that, perhaps, aren't significant to the greater population but define the world of a very proud mommy or daddy. Engagement photos of a couple holding hands and staring at one another amidst the backdrop of a beach or waterfall or lush greenery. Thoughts on the topic are found everywhere in song, film, literature, philosophy. All I believe are valid, as each reflects a particular moment, experience, tradition or belief.

My own thoughts have evolved over the years, as I am sure have those of many others. Most recently I've come across words of others that have significantly caused me to stop and ponder, so I'm hoping that you will indulge me and allow me to share...

I know. Perhaps not the deepest of thoughts upon first glance, but hear me out. This quirky pink box reminded me of something fundamentally definitive of love. Despite being sometimes driven to the brink of insanity because of  their annoying behaviours or obliviously hurtful words and actions, we continue to love and cherish those close to us above all else. Why? Because we're idiots who thirst for heartbreak and pain? It feels that way sometimes. We ask ourselves why we put up with such inconsideration and thoughtlessness. Shouldn't we deserve better? Aren't we worth more? I have asked myself these questions repeatedly in the recent past.

Then I was reminded of how graciously loved I am by the One who created me. How undeserving I am of such a perfect love, yet am the recipient of it in abundance. And so filled with that love, how can I possibly deny it to those who have wronged me? I couldn't if I tried, neither would I want to.  

The Apostle Paul can be easily accredited with having penned the some of the most famous Biblical verses of the New Testament. His speech on love found in Chapter 13 of 1 Corinthians is arguably the most oft read at any Christian wedding service. Though far from traditional versions, I find the translation in The Message to be the most poignant for myself.

   Love never gives up.
   Love cares more for others than for self.
   Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
   Love doesn't strut,
   Doesn't have a swelled head,
   Doesn't force itself on others,
   Isn't always "me first,"
   Doesn't fly off the handle,
   Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
   Doesn't revel when others grovel,
   Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
   Puts up with anything,
   Trusts God always,
   Always looks for the best,
   Never looks back,
   But keeps going to the end.
 
Verse 13 of this chapter calls us to do three things, to "Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, and love extravagantly."  Most synonyms for extravagance have a negative air to them. But if loving according to the definition above is what qualifies the word, then I don't know about you, but I would love to be loved in such a way. And if I'm going to love, I'll strive to do so with extravagance.  
 
One final set of words. I promise, this is it.
 
My newest musical discovery takes form in The Avett Brothers. Their record is amazing and I highly recommend it. I thought I was hooked when I heard the title track, I and Love and You, but was absolutely done for when I discovered within the CD case the band's mission statement in lieu of  liner notes.  I know this entry's been a long one, but stay with me a little longer and read Seth Avett's words. Trust me when I say they are far more eloquent than anything I could come up with, and are worth the read. I'll even include a treat at the end for those of you who persevered.

The words "I" and "Love" and "You" are the watermark of humanity. Strung together, they convey our deepest sense of humility, of power, of truth. It is our most common sentiment, even as the feeling of it is so infinitely uncommon : each to proclaim these three words with his or her very own heart and mindset of reason (or lack thereof); a proclamation completely and perfectly new each time it is offered. Uttered daily and nightly by millions, the words are said in an unending array of circumstances : whispered to a newborn in a mothers arms; shared between best friends on the playground; in the form of sympathy -said by a girl to a boy, as the respect continues but the relationship does not. It is said too loudly by parents to embarrassed children in the company of their friends, and by grown children - to their fading parents in hospital beds. The words are thought in the company of the photograph and said in the company of the gravestone. It is how we end our phone calls and our letters... the words at the bottom of the page that trump all those above it, a way to gracefully finish a message, however important or trivial, with the most meaningful gift of all : the communication of love.

And yet the words themselves have been the victims of triviality, a ready replacement for lesser salutations among near strangers, burst forth casually as "love ya." Truly? To what degree? Why, how much, and for how long? These are questions befitting of the stature of love, though not the everyday banter of vague acquaintance. The words have also been twisted by the dark nature of deceit : To say "I love you" with a dramatic measure of synthetic emotion; a snare set by those who prey upon fellow humanity, driven to whatever selfish end, to gain access to another's body, or their money, or their opportunity. In this realm, the proclamation is disgraced by one seeking to gain rather than to give. In any case, and by whatever inspiration, these words are woven deeply in to the fibers of our existence. Our longing to hear them from the right place is maddeningly and simultaneously our finest strength and our most gentle weakness...

 ...The conclusion of the song from which the title is taken admits that the words "I love you" have become "hard to say". And perhaps that difficulty is as common as it's counterpart. Perhaps the inability to say these heaviest of words is as much a part of life as the lighthearted candor of those who say them without any difficulty at all. And so it ends with the phrase whispered to and by those of us most defeated and most elated... I and love and you...

Mmmmm....calories......

So remember that first date girlish-figure-keeping don't-let-him-know-you-actually-eat-anything-that contains-calories meal I spoke of last?

Yah. Didn't happen. I can't even claim those sweet potato fries, which would have been a "healthier" option.

Fresh cut fries smothered in cheese curds and homemade gravy. That's me.
Do I at least get points for the pomegranate ice-tea? I'm sure the 5% fruit juice in there totally saves me. And the baby spinach on my Angus burger? I'm golden.

I'm a disaster when I eat. It's a miracle when I walk out of a restaurant without something spilled on my clothing. This meal was so intent on making a mess of me, that I was required to remove my jewelry, because heaven knows there would have been tequila-lime BBQ sauce caught in the crevices of my ring.

I couldn't ever to justice to the charm of this place with my amateur photography. You simply have to check it out for yourself. Go this weekend, it's the perfect weather for a stroll on Locke St. Browse some antiques. Stop by Epic Books and pick up some new reading material.  

 And wrap it up by stuffing your face at Chuck's Burger Bar. The walking will burn the calories you're about to revel in. I promise.

First Date

I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a huge bowl of pasta, despite the fact that someone is coming to take me out for dinner in about an hour. Unconciously, the basic girl first-date rule has popped into my head: you eat before being taken on a dinner date, so that you can order something dainty like a salad without feeling absolutely starved by the time the bill arrives. Saves you from looking like an absolute pig when he's around.

I'm also still debating what to wear. Something cute, but that doesn't look like I'm trying too hard to impress. A colour I know he likes, that I can laugh off as being pure coincidence when he says how much he loves it on me.

The funny thing is, I know that none of this is necessary. He's seen me in sweats, no make-up and hair tossed up in a messy ponytail. Knows that I can put back a couple pounds of the sauciest chicken wings in a single sitting, and come back for seconds. Doesn't care if I'm wearing high heels or Chuck Taylors. In fact, he prefers the latter. Has heard me sing off key, yet still lets me play my favourite songs and bop along in the passenger seat.

I think this will be my first first-date without butterfly wings humming inside my stomach, or a jackhammer thumping against my chest.

But perhaps I should consider getting out of my pjs and trying just a little, don't want him to think I'm too comfortable or that I like him that much. Not yet, anyway.

Jar of Hearts

My sister introduced me to this song a while ago, but I never fully embraced it until watching the video. The visuals are perfect.

The lyrics are angry, hurt, and broken. But they are nothing short of bold. Had to share.

Thank you Ms. Perri.

Hey little sister

Remember when we...
saw life so perfectly organized and free from chaos from 10000 ft

got free Twix bars from a Hawaiian flight attendant

talked about Jesus with a billionaire CEO and you offered him your book

drove and fell in love with the most beautiful VW Jetta ever

were California girls

were questioned at every turn about vacationing in Charlotte

revelled in 88 degree weather
meet a State Trooper
drove 8 hours to spend an afternoon in One Tree Hill

stood in the Scott Home

touched Haley's scarred piano keys

explored the B. Davis' beach house

got a sneak peek into OTH future

simultaneously yelled SUNKIST and were officially considered lunatics by all around

saw the Comet

wandered through Red Bedroom Records

found the spot where Nathan hid a Valentine's gift

circled Lucas Scott's house too many times to count

airballed on the River Court

pretended to be the girl behind the red door

reminisced at Tric

cried tears of laughter over chicken nuggets

heard Katy Perry and the Gospel all in the same breath

saw Vegas lights in 3D

were Elevated

worshiped with strangers who were family
escaped

devoured Mexican Easter brunch

wished we had studied at UNC

spent an excessive amount of cash on tea

were convinced to buy 3 more pairs of jeans than we needed

discussed church with an airport security guard

recreated the airport scene from Home Alone
watched a thunder storm from above the clouds

felt whole, secure and happy again
fell in love with the Queen City

Don't know about you, but I'm ready to go back

North Carolina Loving...





 At the edge of the Cape Fear River in Wilmington, where Haley and Grace Potter sing in one of my favourite OTH scenes







Jamie & Quinn found a scavenger hunt clue in this very fountain... and once again I show how much of an obsessive fan I am



The brick walls of Tric were covered in OTH quotes and episode related lyrics.



Brooke Davis' house. The infamous red door.



Playing bball on the River Court. Without a ball. Or a net. Yup, ridiculous. 

 



Exploring the Charlotte campus of the University of North Carolina

The Student Union Centre @ UNC. This place puts Laurier Brantford past the point of shame.



Southern Comfort

I was blessed to spend the Easter weekend in Charlotte, North Carolina with my sister. The trip was nothing short of amazing. There's no way I could possibly write about all of it, but here are a few highlights for curious readers...


1. Charlotte is known as the Queen City, and it truly lives up to this name. It is gorgeously green and elegant. It amazing how much nature is packed into a city. Beautiful for a weekend drive, a hike by a nearby pond or river. And the housing... wow. Charlotte is a clearly city of affluence, but is not showy or gawdy by any means. No opulent palatial homes. Neither are there cookie cutter styles. Think more beautiful colonial meets modern designs surrounded by forests. 


2. The weather.  Sunshine and 30º vs. the snow we left here in Canada. Need I say more?


3. Elevation Church. The most thought provoking Easter Sunday I've had in a long while. This merits a blog entry of it's own. Stay tuned.


4. Charlotte is a scenic 4 hour drive from Wilmington. Really, every drive is scenic (see #1). Why is Wilmington such a big deal? Three words: One Tree Hill.  Take the best day of your life and multiply it by a zillion and you will not even come close to imagining how indescribable our day was in this little river-side town. Again, getting its own blog entry in the near future. 


5.  Shopping at Concord Mills Mall put a serious dent in my wallet, but oh so worth it. This place puts a whole new spin on retail therapy.


6. The people. North Carolinians have a warmth about them that rivals no other. We Canadians may have a reputation of being polite and considerate, but there is nothing like the southern hospitality offered by people of this state.


Above all , the best thing about this weekend was the feeling of being able to breathe. For the first time in a long while I was able to just enjoy where I was, free of worry or stress. North Carolina was healing in that way, it took the weight off my chest and allowed me to just be. I'm searching North Carolina real estate pages as I write this. Okay, maybe that's a bit extreme, but the feeling of being carefree was truly priceless.


On the show One Tree Hill,  protagonist Brooke Davis hangs a sign in her store Clothes Over Bros. The sign reads,


"Somebody told me that this is the place where everything's better and everything's safe".


For me, that's North Carolina.  

Caleb

I've been wrestling with the feeling of missing something all weekend. I don't know what's worse; knowing what you're longing for and aching for it, or being aware of the longing without knowing what exactly it is for.

The obvious and easiest answer would be my ex-boyfriend. But I think of him, and I can't describe what about him it is that I miss. It's made me realize that it's not him that I'm feeling empty without. It's a relief and a disappointment at the same time. When I used to complain to him that we didn't spend enough time together, it had never occured to me that the lack of seeing him throughout the week and a single weekend visit, twice if I was lucky, would one day be a blessing in disguise. It's made it easier to not expect his presence.

Okay, so it's not the ex. So what? The family's away this week. Mom, Dad and baby brother are vacationing in Cuba (and missing out on the freak Sunday afternoon snowfall I might add). Not having Diego around makes life quieter and less exciting, but Karla's here and we're getting some sisterly bonding time, something that doesn't happen very often. She's away at school for most of the year and tends to spend her summers out in the world, doing good. This year will see her spending her second summer in Guatemala, teaching in rural village.

So not the ex-boyfriend. Not the familia. I'm at a loss.

Until, as I am in the kitchen making lunch, the thought of Caleb pops into my head, and tears well up in my eyes. Yup, that's it.

Caleb is the "adopted" child of my ex's family. He has been diagnosed with both Downs Syndrome and Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. He will be turning 16 this year and has no prospects of ever living an independent life. During the week, he lives with his adoptive mom and dad. On most Fridays, he leaves his home and spends the weekend with my ex's family. This gives his parents a "break". Apparently, taking care of their son is so taxing, they can't handle more than 5 consecutive days with him. I am convinced the only reason they even keep him that long is because he's in school. He's spent the last two Christmases, as well as every other major holiday, with the my ex's family instead of in his own home. The love the this family has for Caleb is unarguable, they treat him as one of their own.

Knowing all of the adversity that Caleb endures, I am amazed to know the unconditional love this child shows. Walking in the door, he greets me with a stuttered "Hello Al". The moment my boyfriend got off of the couch, Caleb snuggles into his spot next to me. He would plant wet kisses on my nose, and use his sign lanuage as he stutters "I... love... Al". He would ask if I was happy. This treatment was repeated for everyone in the house, especially towards those who didn't welcome it. Caleb has a tendency to gravitate to those who avoid him as much as possible. At times he is yelled at for misbehaving, put in the corner because he had pushed buttons on the TV remote. A brief look of saddness would cross his face as he apologizes. The minute punishment was over, he smiles and cuddles up to the one he has wronged. His love is unconditional.

Aside from a weekly visit to my boyfriend's house, I never saw him much. Yet every time, the warmness towards me only grew. When the family would argue about whose house Caleb would stay at that night, I always used to say I would take him. They would tell me I was crazy for wanting him around. I think I would be crazy not to. I don't think anyone has ever loved me the way Caleb has.

2 steps forward, 10 steps back

When I woke up this morning, I didn't dread throwing off the covers. Usual thoughts of the past weren't the first ones on my mind. It was light outside, and it was beautiful.

The day at work was productive. I laughed. Joked with co-workers. I smiled and meant it.

Not half an hour ago, my cell phone buzzed. One text message undid the day.

How is it possible for one person to completely unravel the other, without even trying?

Sunday morning reassurance

He is jealous for me,

Loves like a hurricane,

I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory

And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

And oh, how He loves us,

Oh, how He loves us,

how He loves us

We are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way

Oh, how He loves us, oh
Oh, how He loves us, how He loves all
How He loves

Dancing Shoes

Last night, few friends and I met up at a local club. The night started off slow. I kept staring out the window towards the line-up forming outside. I was simultaneously hoping and dreading the idea that my ex would appear on the other side of the glass. To top it all off, my well-intentioned friend invited along a guy for me to meet. He conveniently shared the same first name as my ex. Wonderful.

It was the usual club scene. Underagers trying to look like they legally fit in while those above 25 years of age are left feeling downright old. Loud techo and house music accented by an overpowering light display that could surely put any individual into epileptic shock. But all of it in good fun. For most anyway.

By now it was about 12:30 am and  for me the night hit a point where it could have gone one of two ways. I could've called it quits, cabbed it home and pouted in my misery like the masochist I sometimes am. Or say the hell with it and hit the dance floor. Thankfully, I chose option two. My friend and I decided to make it our mission to find some boys who would be willing to dance with us. Not necessarily a huge issue at a club, if you aren't picky. Any guy will be more than happy to grab at various parts of you if you let them, sometimes even if you don't. This, to them, passes off as dancing. Not to us.

We found a group of guys we thought looked quiet, somewhat respectable. Danced our way over and before long one of them had me by the hand and was quickly proving himself to be a decent partner. His interest was not elsewhere, he was focused on spinning me around the floor in tune to the blaring bass. Oh yes, I said spinning. I had found myself a makeshift salsa dancer, which was way more than I could have asked for. He was flirtatous, but respectful. Felt the music without feeling the need to be all over me. He didn't care how silly we may have looked to his buddies, or to any others around us for that matter. We danced non-stop until the club shut down for the night.

I've had a dance here and there with a boyfriend in the past. In fact, dance played a big role in the beginnings of our relationship. We paired up to teach salsa to our classmates as a project in teacher's college, and the rest was history. But in recent years that joy was quelled by a variety of factors, mostly who else was around at the time and what they might think. I am trying hard right now to recall, but I can't remember at all the last time he made the rest of the world disappear, put his hands on my waist and swept me off my feet.

I danced with someone last night for the first time in a really long while. And even though it was only for a few hours,  it took me back to where I long to be.

Restoring far more than justice

The lastest craze in problem solving at school is called a restorative justice circle. Students sit in a circle and air out their feelings. There's no cross talk, and only the person with the talking stick (in our case, a ruler) may speak. There are no put downs, no negative comments, just open communication - in theory :)

The girls in my class have been asking for to have an RJ circle for the past few days. Apparently the boys have been driving them crazy. So today we sacrificed our math period (much to everyone's relief), pushed all furniture to the edge of the room and formed our makeshift circle in the middle.

When they first sat down, all girls sat on one side of the circle, boys on the other. At the risk of starting World War III, I requested a seating change; a boy-girl pattern. I've never had so many simultaneous dirty looks, but they complied.

The girls spoke of feeling inferior. They didn't think they mattered. The boys were making them feel worthless. They tell them to stop acting like "such girls" when they are upset or angry. Call them sluts, lesbians, hoes. They eavesdrop on conversations, instigate fights among groups of girls and stand back to watch the drama unfold.

The boys felt attacked. Surely, not all of them are that way. Yes, they've said things in passing. Called names just to tease. Laughed as the girls were mean to one another, calling them drama queens, spazzes, saying they need to be on pills to help with their anger. But never did they mean to hurt.

What was most poigniant was when the boys began apologizing. They told everyone how much they really cared about them. They didn't hesitate to say that this class was, in a way, their family. And that they should be treating their family better. One spoke up and told us that as a Christian, he believed we were all brothers and sisters. Everyone, regardless of belief, agreed. They all shared how they loved everyone and ought to regard everyone as equals. They stood up as young men today. They opened their hearts, spoke their minds, with honesty being of the outmost importance.

In no way did I guide this discussion. I did not force conversation or ask questions. In fact, I sat in silence for the duration and just listened. Not one person said anything that they thought I, as a teacher, wanted to hear, or what anyone else wanted to hear for that matter. Each spoke from the heart. When a girl cried, a boy stood up to get her kleenex. I'm sorries were exchanged. There were hugs, smiles.

I closed telling them that they were all strong people with beautiful hearts. That they needed to carry the discussion beyond our class doors, to the playground, to their homes, into every relationship. That one day, they would need to have open, heart-felt discussions with their parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, children. I told them to remember the day in the sixth grade when they allowed themselves to be vulnerable, to be honest, treating one another with love and respect.

I'm so proud of my 27. They give me hope.

Long weekends

Never in my wildest dreams would I think that I would loathe weekends. That I would count the hours until Monday arrived, bringing a week of demands that I am starting to look forward to.

I’m an elementary school teacher, and so I do not work the regular 9-5 day as much of the world.  My work day does not end when the final bell goes. Nor does it end when I go home. There is always more to do.  Don’t take this the wrong way and think I’m just another complaining educator, claiming to be overworked and underpaid. I love my job.  Since I was an innocent second grader I dreamed of having my own class, and today I am there.

I have a class of 27 sixth graders. Twenty-seven eleven year olds who warm my heart with hope for future generations and make me want to bang my head against the wall all at the same time.  There are days when I speak to them as equals, days they are wise beyond their short lifetimes, and days when I still see them for who they truly are – children.  And despite their complicated nature, their struggle to maintain innocence in a world that shoves them into adulthood at an ever quickening pace, they have somehow managed to be an anchoring force in my life.

I know that when the  bell rings at 8:40 tomorrow morning, I will be greeted with “Good morning” which will be quickly followed up with “Do we have gym today”???.  I’ll tell them to take off their sweaters to appease our uniform policies, and wait for them to line up quietly. I refuse to take them down the hall for their favourite class until they are silent. I’ll collect the late slips and tell the girls to hurry out of the change rooms, they’ll have time to finish gossiping at recess. They’ll ask for extra silent reading time, which always encourages me to think I may have had a hand in cultivating readers, an activity which was my own first love.  We’ll end the day with math, a time of day that no one is luke warm about. Math is either loved or disdained by these kids.

I long for Monday because these twenty-seven are there. There are some that make me question my decision to become a teacher. There are others that reaffirm my choice. But all of them are loyal. I can say with confidence that if asked, not one would choose to be in another class over mine. They groan at the prospect of a supply teacher, and tell me they missed me when I return from a day at a workshop.  They trust me enough to ask me to sit with them to help mediate problems between friends they can not solve on their own. They smile when I say I am proud of them because they know it’s true.  Those twenty seven lives make me feel needed and worthwhile. Perhaps that makes me selfish and arrogant .  But it’s what I find encouragement in these days.

So Sunday night better get here soon. I don’t know how much more of the weekend I can take.

What comes next

Hello world. I’m looking forward to meeting you on my own terms. Discovering what I love about you, what I hate, what surprises or frightens me, what comforts and soothes.

I’m  in my mid-twenties. I’ve spent the majority of my young life in a series of long term relationships, the most recent of which ended two weeks ago yesterday. And the irony of it all is that I feel like I’m done. So much time and energy dedicated to my other halves, that I turned into a girl that doesn’t feel whole on her own. I don’t know how to be  me without the attachment of my love’s name to mine. It’s always been me and him. The him changed once or twice, but the need for attachment didn’t.

So this is where I find myself. Excited to see the world with eyes unbiased by another's opinion of it all. But terrified all the while. Learning not to be afraid of tomorrow, or even the next hour. Rather, seeking to embrace the beauty of the world. Hopefully it hugs me back.