When I Am Weak...

I want it to be easy.
I need it to be difficult.

I want to hear Your voice.
I need to wait on You.

I want a sign.
I need to pray.

I want the answer.
I need Your patience.

I want it to be clear.
I need Your truth.

I want to do it on my own.
I need Your Spirit.

I want control.
I need You to lead me.

I want to be saved from pain.
I need Your peace no matter
what happens.

I want to be angry.
I need to rejoice in You.

I want to believe that I have arrived.
I need to learn.

I want to forget Your commands.
I need to obey them.

I want to believe that I am strong enough.
I need to remember that "when I am weak,
then I am strong."

Merry Christmas!

This one is a keeper! The sibs on Christmas Morning,

looking good in our pajamas. Corey did comment that

taking pictures BEFORE opening presents would have

NEVER happened a few years ago. It would have been torturous.

We might be slightly more grown up now..............

Good Try?

Lets just say that the entire family photo did not go so

well this year! You can almost tell thats me there.

Well....maybe next year....it was still a wonderful Christmas.

Isn't This Just Precious?

Dear Snow Day,

I love you.

With all of my heart.

More Than A Baby

It's Christmas.

I have barely recognized it yet because I have been too busy with teaching. But I was thinking about it today. Christmas. The birth of Christ. A pretty big deal, right? The Savior of the world born to us. For us. To be with us: fools, sinners, and evil doers.

But somehow, despite these extraordinary events, I have not felt their power this season.
I have heard the story a million times.
I wake up every morning with the realization that Jesus came for me.
He died for me. He set me free.

And I walk by.
and on.
and away.

But I am left wondering, why don't I sense the power of Christmas? Shouldn't those who don't believe see its power during this season? Its immense joy that it brings to the hearts of believers?

Yet, how am I supposed to display its power to the world when I don't sense it? As I was thinking about this, I thought of one reason that I don't think I am sensing the power of Christmas. I think its at least, in part, because I see Jesus, during Christmas time, as a little baby in a manager.
Completely helpless.
Sure, He's God....sort of, right?

I realized that I need to remind myself that he is not just a helpless baby in a manger:

15He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. 17He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy."
Colossians 1: 15-18

This shows no sign meekness. Or weakness. Or helplessness. In Him, ALL things hold together. He has the supremacy over all rulers and authorities on earth and heaven.

This Christmas, I want to recognize the beauty, the joy, and might that this little baby brought to earth: the joy he brought to give us hope in a broken world, to give us eternal life; the beauty he brought to earth in unconditional love, forgiveness, and healing; the power that he brought to change the hearts of men, to rule over and in our lives with goodness and truth.

As I think about these things, I start to sense the power of Christmas. For this little baby has changed my life, has given me all hope and truth and guidance. This little baby has the power, even today, to change the world, to bring light into every darkness, to heal every disease and broken heart, to rescue us from the depths of sin. There is so much hope and power in that.

Running

I am running.
Running in a blaze of
avoidance and self-pity.
Running away
so fast
from my mile high pile of work
and my page long list of to-do's.

I am running away
so fast that
I don't think
Superman or
Spiderman, or even
the Road Runner has a
prayer
in catching me.

God Be With You

I just ran across these pictures. I did my student teaching in Southfield, Michigan, which is pretty close to Detroit. It seems like years ago--although, in reality, it was only a year and a half ago. I have realized since then that one of the hardest parts of teaching is having to leave students, or let students go, when I feel like some of them might not be able to stand on their own yet. I still think about and pray for these students often--even though I am sure they believe that I forgot about them. Its hard to think that I don't know where hardly any of these students are, except for one that I keep in contact with occassionally. In a way, I fear knowing where some of them are right now. Even though student teaching was one of the most difficult experiences of my life, it was one of the most rewarding experiences as well. I truly loved these kids. They taught me so much. They changed my perspective on the world. They helped me view the world through God's eyes a little bit more. They helped me see truth. Some of them have been through more difficulties in their young lives than I will probably ever go through. They will always be my first group of students. They will always have a special place in my heart. And I wish them all the best.

This I Believe...

If there is one thing that I believe will inevitably come, it is rain. But not the refreshing, promised rain that comes after a hopeless drought, or the warm drizzle that provides escape from the blistering summer sun.

I believe in the kind of rain that is inevitably there during the sinister, horrifying scene in the latest scary movie. The kind of rain that darkens the soul, creating a sense of hopelessness that cannot be shaken. The kind of rain that penetrates your very being without permission, without warning, and seems to cast a shadow over every joy.

I believe that this world is full of rain: Poverty, Hate, Racism, Suicide, Murder, War, Adultery, Broken families, Death, Selfishness, Slander, Abuse, Betrayal.

I wish that I could see the rain, and never touch it. I fear the unexpected...because there are always going to be days when the world that is full of rain becomes your own.

I remember the day that we got the call that my aunt had one of the worst kinds of cancer. I remember shouting at my mom, to tell me what was wrong, as she cried while speaking in a tremored, anxious voice on the phone. Looking back, I can still feel the rain fall.

I remember the day when I failed. I got cut from the team. Unfairly cut, without warning, without explanation. Just cut. The rain made me wince in shame.

I remember the day she died. I remember the walls closing in, the water streaming from the eyes of my family. The same rain still falls sometimes.

I also know that tomorrow will bring rain. I can try to fight it, but I know that I have no control over the weather. It simply falls.

I would like to say that I don’t fear the rain. That I believe in a good God who shelters me from rain, who keeps me from the world that darkens the soul. But the truth is, I do fear the rain sometimes. In quiet moments. In solitude. In a crowded room. I fear the rain.

Yet, it would be a lie to say that the rain controls me. In my best moments, when I look upon His face, I do not fear the rain.

When I look back at the phone call about my aunt, I am surrounded by memories of the hope of my family, the hugs that we gave, the way we loved each other, the way we trusted God with the future, and the way we prayed with expectancy and fervor. It sounds cliché, but I believe that there is always a rainbow after..or even during rain.

I got cut. I learned humility. I learned that there were other things I could be doing with my time. I learned that being good at something does not make me worthwhile and being bad at something does not make me worthless. It hurt, but the rainbow still came.

She died and she’s in a better place. Her life, full of Christ’s love, still influences my being on this earth. Makes me stronger, better. Makes me long to see her again. The rain slowly fades away…

I have made a promise to myself that I will never only see the rain. It will be there, I know, a million times more before God allows me to leave this place. I promise that even when I can't see the rainbow in the distance, I will not stare only at the rain. I will not stand in it. I will not let it overwhelm me.

I am too blessed and I serve a God that is too good, that is too loving, that is too gracious, to allow myself to be consumed by rain. The world is still in poverty, consumed with hate and selfishness, filled with hunger and broken families; But I believe that in Him, there is hope, there is healing, there is satisfaction, and there is love. In Him, there is a future that need not be feared. In Him, I always find a rainbow awaiting me.

Maybe I Should Just Give Everyone a "C" This Year...

This is how I feel about all the grading I have to do!! AAAHHHHH. (I actually had these pictures from something else--but it just encapsulates so beautifully my current emotions.) Lets just say that there are going to be some late nights in the next week before break. But, its one of those things that I signed up for as an English teacher. And I just have to remind myself that I get a break, I have a job, and I love teaching. So in the end, I just can't complain. But for right now......its a little stressful! On the up side, I am excited to go to Chicago this weekend. Wow, these pictures serve as a reminder that I used to be tan.....sigh.

Dear student in the first row,

If the future of America rests upon
you
Let's just say I am a little
worried.
You make me believe that people
can't change.
And for that, I have a hard time looking you in the
eye.
It is my prayer that you could be filled with
compassion and love
instead of hate and
apathy.
If I am supposed to be the one changing you,
why do I feel
cynicism
suffocating
me?

Foolish purchase, anyone?

I am the perfectionist type.
The get straight A's in high school type.
The athlete type, who hates to
lose.
I am the go to college type.
Graduate in four years.
Get a job.
And don't forget to
pay off your loans type.
But sometimes....I just wish I could be
"foolish. "
Quit.
Travel the world.
Make an expensive purchase that doesn't make any
sense.
Learn a new language.
Write a book.
Get my P.H.D in everything
and anything
regardless of how much it
costs.
Go skydiving.
Swim with dolphins.
Learn to play an
instrument.
Then start a band.

I think that maybe some day
I could do these things.
But then I laugh at the

absurdity

of it all.
Well, maybe one day I will swim with
dolphins.....

Maybe.

For My Dearest Elizabeth

At the request of one of my BFF's, I am posting some of my other poems from my class this summer:

Almost Perfect

My eyes graze over the brown bench where I sit
and fall upon the inscription where my back had been.

It says, “In Memory of Dan Osborne”
and I wonder, who is Dan Osborne?
and more importantly, what happened to him?
that he lives on this ordinary, brown bench.

Waves lap steadily against the dock
on this almost perfect day.
As I sit on Dan’s tombstone,
that was to me just a bench,
mere minutes ago,
I wonder if he has seen these waves before.

I want to imagine Dan’s going
As gentle as the breeze that brushes my face
As if he was lead, slowly and gracefully, to a better world
in the care of lapping waves.
I imagine his aged wife
coming to this very brown bench
and elegantly remembering their almost perfect days.
I imagine Dan’s life ending without further wish
with people he loved
remembering only the good he left behind and
could not come back to.

But something, something strong inside of me
surrounds me with its disbelief.
I try to escape it, but it
Tugs, tugs at my soul.

Something tells me that Dan’s perfect death didn’t happen
for him or for anyone else that has strolled this boardwalk.
maybe he lost his life in the turbulent waves
that to me, in this moment, are my father’s green eyes
gazing calmly back at me.
maybe no one is here to remember him anymore
maybe he did not leave that much good behind
maybe he is simply a name on this brown bench.

Ode To Mondays....

I wrote this one rather bitter Monday. Its completely silly, but it MIGHT make you smile with understanding.

Unless, of course, you are my loving mother, who would NEVER dream of losing her keys or being late. :)

Neither Bryan, Corey, nor I are quite sure how we are her offspring. Although, Bryan, I will give you the most organized sibling award. Which I MIGHT partially attribute to Michelle....haha.

Ode To Monday:

Just another Monday morning….

WHERE are my keys?
I needed to leave five minutes ago!
I glance anxiously at the clock.
Why do I always do this?
Whoever invented the snooze button
is seriously ruining my life...

Tick, tock, tick, tock
Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Pitter, patter, pitter, patter
Rummage, rummage, rummage
Sigh.
My Salvation.
Sweet….sweet…..salvation keys.

Shuffle, grab, shuffle, grab
Bags, bags, bags, bags,
Clomp, clomp, clomp trudge….
Trudge, go, truge, go
Go, go, go!

Maybe next Monday…

A little more caffeine,
a few minutes more,
a lunch already packed,
my clothes iron pressed,
a little less self-criticism
and loathing,
will put me in a peace-serenity,
ready-to-face-the-day,
glass-brimming-full,
Hey, world!
I’m coming for you
attitude!

Maybe next Monday will be different
Than the last million Mondays....

O Christmas Tree

I have a Christmas tree!

Okay, it may be fake. And I have a deep love for real trees and pine scents. (who was it that told me that I should just get a pine tree yankee candle instead of a real tree? Bryan or Michelle, perhaps?)

The funny thing is--the tree is not even mine. It's my roommates.

And yes, its only 3 and half feet tall.

And about a foot wide...at the bottom.

But somehow, I find that this little tree brings me consistent

joy

with its pretty lights and matching ornaments.

I almost feel like a real adult now that I have Christmas decorations in my apartment.

I think that I would really feel like an adult if any of other decorations--the little snowmen, the candles, the wreath, or the star were mine.

But it doesn't matter. I love Christmas. And I love my tree.

Freudian Slip?

I said the word "syphilis" in my American Lit class today.

Yes, syphilus. The one and only. The STD that currently infects 36, 000 people in America.

I meant to say that Huckleberry feigned SMALLPOX, yet somehow--syphilis came out.

No one would have noticed, including myself, if hadn't been for the boy in the back with the red hair.

As a teacher, I have learned that there will always be the boy in the back (with the red hair) who will declare my mistake to the world....

or just to 24 sophomores.

"Did ms. scheffers just say syphilis?"

The class erupted.

So....what did I do?

I laughed. For five whole minutes, it seemed. Because I figure that in situations like this, all I can do is laugh. At least I didn't say "shit," right?

Oh wait, that was last year.

Lorraine

On Saturday, we had the funeral for my Great Aunt Lorraine.

Its crazy to say, but as my great aunt, she is the closest person to me that has ever died.

I had the privilege of reading a poem that I wrote for her at her funeral, and even though I was nervous beforehand and wishing that I could just fade into the masses...I am glad I did.

It made me think how often I probably don't say what I mean--that I love people, that I miss people, that they have made a significant difference in my life, that they give my life purpose and meaning, that I believe God placed them right here to give me hope when I can't see it myself.

Lorraine, you brought me joy, and laughter, and understanding. You reminded me that earthly life is not that significant--Jesus is. To you, and your sense of humor that could always make me smile, I leave this tribute:

It is the first time death stares back at me.
The wiry, yellow-stained tubes encircling, leading everywhere
and nowhere, all at once
the small, white-walled room surrounds us
in its dismal lighting and icy blue tile.

Amidst the beep, beep, beep of death-resistant machinery
and the clomp, clomp, clomp of people passing by
lies the woman I love.
Her wrinkled, bruised hand, her soft, blue eyes
strain to tell each of us good-bye.

I, too, search for reassurance
In the whispered words that I am relieved
to have the chance
In the clasp of her hand that offers,
with much effort, a faint sqeeze
In the knowledge that the woman I love
has not the strength she once had
to captivate a room with laughter
instead of muffled tears.

In the midst of uncommon words
such as “I love you”
she leans forward with a born-again twinkle in her eye.
As she glances over my summer-dressed body, she says
“I have a dying wish.”
I lean in thinking of all she might say…
“Keep your family close and God closer”
“Enjoy the little moments”
Or maybe even “Remember the time I have spent with you.”

In my thoughts enters the words of the wise woman I love,
“Kristin...” she says with renewed clarity and strength,
“Promise me that you will always keep your girlish figure.”

To which my smile through tears erupted in a room of laughter and
For a moment, the woman I love is the woman I knew.

A Blog For Me

And for you.

I don't know what this will be.

This might be my first and last

entry.

But if I have words to say,

I am working on saying them.