A New Year

So technically, I’ve missed posting this on the 1st by 52 minutes. Bummer. However, I don’t like to be cliché, so I guess posting this on the 2nd helps.

I’m not really one for making New Year’s Resolutions. I figure that by formally writing down my resolutions the disappoint is greater when I fail at them. Perhaps a bit glass-is-half-empty of me, but history does repeat itself…The thing is that I find myself even more introspective than normal around the Christmas/New Year’s season, and I re-evaluate many things.

So, instead, I have hopes for the coming year, and this post is as formal as it’s going to get.

1. I hope to have a more consistent prayer life.

2. I hope to excel at grad school, not to bring glory to myself, but that I may be a much better teacher for it.

3. I hope to face whatever comes with joy, because no matter what, my God is good.

4. I hope to finish the year with no regrets.

Roommate Bonding

Some get pedicures.

Some watch movies.

Some go to coffee together.

But in northern Minnesota…we shovel. And snow blow. And dig cars out of snow banks. And chip ice off of sidewalks.

 

Sleepless in the North Country

I can’t sleep.

This is extremely unusual for me. Usually, within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I am out for the night. However, it’s the Holidays, so I’ve had a few days off, and I haven’t done enough to make myself tired, I guess.

Thoughts continue to pummel through my head, so I decided it’s time to return to the blog. I know, it’s been ages. I don’t know why I’ve lost contact, but I shall try to do better.

One of the thoughts that keeps going through my mind is the idea of intentional friendship.

I’ve made some new friends recently who have been a tremendous encouragement to me, and we’ve been discussing the idea. How can I purposely make true friends in an effort to show the love of Christ to people who haven’t been introduced to Him? I would say that this thought is swiftly becoming a burden. I know that there are many around me who haven’t been introduced to my Savior yet, so what am I waiting for? Not only do I want to make new acquaintances, I want to be able to be an instrument for the Savior and be a discipler.

Where do I start?

Why Do I Do It?

“Approved workmen are not ashamed! Boys and girls for the Gospel claim!”

I looked around the room at the aggregation of boys, girls, and adults passionately singing the theme song to our church’s Bible club. The pitchy screeching, I mean singing, made me smile. The situation could definitely be described as “making a joyful noise.”

I had worked in a similar Bible club for three years while I was in New England, and I didn’t exactly enjoy the experience. And here I found myself committed to helping out at my home church. To be honest, my motives at first were not great. I agreed because I’m a people pleaser, and I have a hard time saying no. I could hear my dad in my head, “God’s called us to be servants…”

The first night of the club, in rushed a group of kids that my dad had picked up in the church van. Two little girls, obviously sisters, ran up to me: “Hey! You go to our school!” They both grinned toothless grins. (At the time I had been subbing for two weeks as a para in their school.)

“You’re right. I am!”

“We’re so glad to see you!”

I’m not sure why they were so glad to see me, seeing as we had never talked at school. But it made me smile when they said it.

Over the weeks, the girls continued to faithfully come to the club. I would work with them, diligently teaching them John 3:16. “For God so loved the world…” over and over again.

The girls are so rough around the edges. They know absolutely nothing about God, Jesus, or the Bible, but when I look at them, I see the beautiful little girls that God uniquely created. He loves them with a deep, passionate love, and He loved them so much that He sent His only begotten Son for them.

I found myself looking forward to the club with great anticipation. I would get to teach the girls something new about God each Wednesday night! Is there anything greater than that?!

However, in my human frailty, I would doubt that God was teaching them anything, that they weren’t understanding anything, that whatever happened at home would erase anything they learned in one night.

Well, one Wednesday evening, I had the privilege of teaching the lesson at the end of the night. I was teaching the kids about missions. I asked,

“Can anyone tell me what the Gospel is?”

All around the room, church kids eagerly waved their hands in the air. I fully expected them to go into a verbose explanation about the Gospel, but all of a sudden, one of the girls that I had been working with shouted out,

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son!”

My jaw dropped. She nailed it. She got it.

Silly me, to doubt that God was working in their lives. I  had, once again, put limitations on God. I wanted to cry, but I held myself together.

“You’re absolutely right, M-. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

That’s why I do this.

 

The Power of Uff-da

Growing up, there was always someone around me using the word uff-da.

It’s the perfect Norwegian-Minnesotan catch-all.

If one is lifting something heavy, he mutters uff-da.

If one is noticing the rise in the price of gas, he exclaims uff-da!

If one has over-exerted himself during his workout, he grunts uff-da.

If one is saddened by the headlines in the news, he moans uff-da.

All northern Minnesotans know and understand this word. If a Minnesotan doesn’t use it himself, he at least appreciates the depth of meaning and diverse uses for this term.

However,  I am saddened that not all Americans are familiar with the term. When I road-tripped from New England back to Bemidji last June, Sarah and Lindsey had to be educated on it. We were eating at Minnesota Nice, and a section of the menu at the restaurant was called the “Uff-da Specials” (or something like that). Lindsey asked, “What’s Huffdaw?”

“Oh. You mean Uff-da,” I responded.

“What?” asked Lindsey.

I explained the multi-functional word to my friends. They mulled it over a little, and we moved on in our conversation.

Later that same day, we girls were shopping at Target. Megan was noticing the price of shampoo or something and muttered “Uff-da” under her breath. Lindsey overheard her and came running up to Sarah and me, “She said it! She said it!”

“Who said what?” we asked.

“Uff-da! Megan said Uff-da! It’s so funny!”

I’m glad that Lindsey comprehends just how great this word really is.

Favorite Subbing Moments

I originally started this blog after one of my students suggested I do so to keep everyone informed of my future adventures.

I realize now exactly how remiss I’ve been. I’ve posted NO stories about substitute teaching yet. I’ve made a couple of allusions, but I want to remedy this problem. So here are a few highlights:

1. Funniest high school moment so far: (I’ve only been at the high school twice, so the selections are pretty slim.) I was teaching in the resource room, which I learned is basically babysitting high schoolers that have special needs or major behavioral problems. One of the class periods was filled with behavioral problem students. We got along great, for the most part. For some reason, someone brought up Justin Bieber. The conversation went something a little like this:

Punk boy: “Did you hear Justin Bieber was arrested?”

Ditzy girl: “Really?”

Punk boy: “For hitting puberty.”

(I was not inclined to laugh at this moment. I thought it was a retarded joke.)

Ditzy girl: totally genuine “He did?!”

(This is the moment when I laughed uproariously and participated in the conversation.)

Miss C: “Now that’s a funny joke.”

I don’t think the poor girl ever figured out what the rest of us were laughing at.

2. Most awkward middle school moment so far: I was teaching 7th grade Language Arts. I was so happy, because I was in a classroom where I belonged. It was the last hour of the day, and there were over 30 students in the class. They were a little hyper at this point. I was trying to get them all quiet and calmed down when an extremely hyper boy grabs my hand. He held it up to his and practically shouted, “You have REALLY small hands!”

Brought me back to class with Brittany R.

3. Most ironic middle school moment: I was teaching 8th grade social studies. In three of the four class periods when I introduced myself as Miss Claypool, I had students raise their hands and in hushed and reverent tones ask,

“Are you related to Trevor Claypool?”

“He would be my little brother.”

“Really?!”

I had zero behavioral problems from them. I guess being related to a local celebrity has its good points, especially since I could talk racing with them. I just wasn’t expecting his fame to reach all the way to the middle school.

4. Most intense elementary moment so far: One 4th grade boy had purposely slid his chair back so that it bumped into the boy behind him. The other boy turned around and shoved the chair as hard as he could. Thus, a fight resulted. One boy really struggles to communicate at all, so he could not tell me why he had done it. The other communicates quite well orally, but as I was pulling them apart and trying to keep them from hitting each other, the one clung to my waist. Not inappropriately. It broke my heart. I think he never gets appropriate physical affection.

5. Out of control elementary moment: I was teaching art for a day. Yes, art. I know laugh hard over that one. The fifth graders were diligently working on their project, and I was walking around attempting to answer questions for them. One of the students asked me,

“Do you have any children?”

Without batting an eyelash, I responded “No. Do you?”

Apparently, that was funny. The entire class lost it. Completely. It took several minutes for me to reign them back in and get them on task again.

Stupid me. I need to use the brain-to-mouth filter on my wit sometimes…

6. Realizing what I’m good at: The magical cut-off line is 2nd grade. 2nd grade and up, we get along beautifully. They like me, and I like them. I just don’t communicate with 1st and under well at all. I mean,

“Why can’t I send 15 first graders into the bathroom at the same time. They should be able to take turns using the bathroom, washing their hands, etc. “

“They are only 6 or 7.”

“Oh. Right.”

Mental note to self: Seven year olds don’t know how to define “appropriate behavior.” Bummer.

Sadly, when I’m in a room of little munchkins, I’m generally mentally encouraging myself, “Hang on. You can do this only 5 hours, 22 minutes, and 13 seconds left until the bell rings.”

I mean they are cute, but why don’t they understand the word conclude or logically? I can’t come up with appropriate synonyms for them!

But, of course, the one little kindergarten boy who hugged me approximately 29 times in one day-I think he liked me. He was pretty cool.

A Fluid Family

My brother got married this past Monday.

The road to this event was brief, yet still held obstacles as all weddings do. The bride was one of my roommates for the two months leading up to the wedding. The bride and groom both wanted a private ceremony, and they wanted it soon.

Most of the complications leading up to the wedding simply had to do with the fact that they had so little time to get things done. But in the end, everything worked out beautifully!

The ceremony was in Preacher’s Grove overlooking Lake Itasca.

Celebrating with just immediately family and close friends was a wonderful experience! Most weddings I’ve been involved in have so many people around that no one gets any quality time with the bride and groom. When the wedding is small, everyone enjoys each other’s company.

With the new addition to our family, I am excited about the new possibilities in the future! (And I’m not directly talking about future nieces or nephews )

I just think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.

I’ve Always Been Really Bad At Keeping In Touch

I still have a blog.

I often think of things I want to put in my blog.

Then I remember that it has been a month since I posted last, and I am overwhelmed at my lack of communication.

Unfortunately, this is just like many of my long-distance friendships. Bummer.

I promise to do better.

To leave you with a little insight into my life in the last month:

1. I have taught or worked with 4-year-olds, high schoolers, middle schoolers, 5th graders, 2nd graders, 4th graders, and a boy with cerebral palsy. Oh! And I taught art to many different elementary classes-definitely one of the most ironic days of my life.

2. I started teaching piano lessons again. (So weird)

3. I’m learning to have a social life in Bemidji. Sort of.

4. My brother got married on a Monday.

5. I got pinched in the rear end by a developmentally delayed high school boy, and I was bitten on the backside by a four-year-old. (Yes, I said bitten.)

Where Am I?

Slamming locker doors. Giggling and laughter. Greetings of friends parted during the summer months. Familiar sounds to me for the fifth year in a row, only this time, the giggling was at a much higher decibel and the locker doors only reached as high as my waist.

I found myself in a strange new land: a public elementary school. Oddly enough, I was somewhat intimidated by hundreds of little people. What was I doing here? I am a teacher of human beings that are at least intelligent enough to understand the majority of the big words I use. How on earth am I supposed to communicate with these little people?

My subbing job involved filling in as a special education paraprofessional until a permanent one could be hired. To be completely honest, I really had no idea what a para even did! I had never had one in my classroom when I taught. I had never been a student in a classroom that had a para, and I found myself shaking hands and introducing myself to the special ed. teacher who manages the paras. She immediately assumed that I knew exactly what my responsibilities were. I chuckled and stopped her and asked what exactly she expected me to do. Her answer-whatever you were trained to do. Again I chuckled, “Um…nothing?” I told her of my past educational experience, and without giving me any real instructions, she informed me that I would be ok, and to just follow my student around.

So I did just that. For four days. I hung out with a 5th grade student and helped this young child read, write, and spell. During this time, I learned many interesting things about the public education system. I won’t go into all of these things now, but this I will say now. Teaching in a small Christian school, I probably was paid a third of what the public school teacher is paid, and I definitely did at least three times as much as the public school teacher does. I learned on Friday that the teachers in this particular elementary school don’t even do their own laminating. Interesting…

I have one more week working this particular assignment. I’m loving getting to know the children, but once again, my belief that I am not meant to teach elementary-age children is reinforced.

Broken?

When a young child’s favorite toy breaks, the reaction of the child is usually one of tears of anger or sadness. The child runs to his mother or father with the broken pieces wanting the toy to be fixed. Now. Possible temper tantrums may be thrown if the demand cannot be met.

When I was young, I remember having had that reaction to broken things.

Broken. It seems so negative. But now it’s not my toy that is broken or should be broken. It’s my dreams and desires. My emotions. My cravings.

I sang tonight “Brokenness is what I long for. Brokenness is what I need.” But did I mean it? Was I flippant? Maybe I meant it momentarily as the words passed my lips, but what about always?

My Bible study leader Rob directed us to Psalm 51. David earnestly pleads for mercy, grace, forgiveness, but then the direction of his prayer changes.

David realizes that his relationship with God is not about David, but about God. While David begins the Psalm with a plea for forgiveness, he grows in his understanding that his relationship with God will not be right until God creates a new, clean heart in him. As this understanding overtakes him, his plea changes to the longing for a new heart. David realizes that God doesn’t want perfunctory sacrifices, sacrificing for sacrificing’s sake. God wants a broken heart and contrite spirit. God will not despise these. It is the ultimate paradox-while humankind throws broken things away, God brings the broken one to Himself–to a place of ultimate fellowship!

So then when I am not in a place of humble submission before my God where I am prayerfully longing for brokenness, it is only natural that God should have to bring me to a point of brokenness. Why then do I throw temper tantrums and question the goodness and justice of my God? If I only had been fellowshipping with Him through prayer as I should, I would not need to be abruptly brought to the end of myself.

Thankfully, David’s experiences were chronicled for me in the Psalms. I can learn from his lessons. My prayer has changed from one of demanding my wants to desiring the broken and contrite heart that God wants. Only then can I know true, sweet communion with Him.