Complex

 Simple is better than complex. 

My life recently became very simple. Get up > Go to school for the day > Go away for supper/do crazy things with crazy people > Go home to bed.

I love it. Will it eventually become complex? I hope not.

My old life was/is complex. Because of Christmas break, I am back in my old life for a few weeks and I don't know how to feel. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it used to be simple and I made it complex. All the people that need my attention, all the things that need to be thinged and the stuff that needs to be stuffed should have their priorities and then I should leave them at that. But I think I have to do/be everything and then I make life complex. 

Complex is still better than complicated. 

Safe

  Tell me about being safe.

   I gave this as a composition assignment to two of my students a few days ago. I wasn't sure how they would respond, but within 30 minutes, they each had written half a page of wise words and deep thoughts.

   I keep thinking back to those compositions, to the prompt about being safe. I started thinking about my feelings of safety and decided to write about a few of them.

   This actually happened later on in the week, after the 'safe' composition. Something came up that I didn't want to do. I knew that it had to be done and that I could have fun doing it if I let myself, but I had a bad attitude about it. So I prayed about it. I told God what was happening and my feelings about it. And suddenly I knew that I didn't have to fear the circumstances anymore, God would help me thru. I felt safe in the trust.

   My beautiful little niece has reached the stage where she would sometimes rather be with Tia Addie than Mom because Tia Addie is more fun because she's not Mom. One evening at bed time, she begged to come to me. She dove into my arms and, after a story and a bottle, she snuggled in and fell asleep. She trusted me. She felt safe with me. And I felt secure because she wanted and needed me.

   A few months ago I knew I needed a change. What kind of change I didn't know, but I talked to God a lot about it. A job offer came for something that I did not think that I wanted to do. In fact, the same thing had been mentioned to me a week or so before and I thought it so far fetched that I promptly forgot about it. But after the second time it was mentioned to me, the thought would not leave me. I knew without knowing that this is what I was going to do. That this was the change God had in mind for me. So I said I would teach. Fast forward to now. Sometimes I get discouraged or it feels like I can't be a good enough teacher. Thru the nebulous haze comes the thought to pray. So I do. And suddenly I know that I can do it. I can make it. I don't have to be the perfect teacher, all my students need is my best efforts. And I can do my best because I know this is where God wants me, I'm following His path and He'll watch over me. I'm safe.

   I dropped my students off at home late one afternoon (yes we are an unconventional school.) Instead of running to the house like his siblings, one stayed back and waited for me. The short walk to the house provided an opportunity to touch on some serious subjects and he readily shared his thoughts on those subjects. This is the kind of teacher I want to continue to be. A teacher whose students feel safe with her.

   To complete this post, I will leave a thought borrowed from one of the aforementioned compositions. 'If people fear for the safety of you, you can be safe in that fear and it is comforting.'

   Goodnight. 

To my sisters

 There is no grin more mischievous or happy than auntie's grin when the small niece or nephew is left in her charge for awhile. 

Failed

  I failed. One too many screams had been screamed by my beloved toddlers. Or was it one too many toys or mittens that had been ceremoniously dipped into the toilet and squeezed out on the floor. And not an hour after I got to work today I failed myself and said 'I can't do this' and I started crying. 

 They didn't know what to do with me. It was the second time this week that they saw me crying, the third time this week that they prayed with me. 'She's a rock, Lord. She comes in cheerful every morning. The children love her. Thank You for that.' But the rock looked more like a mud puddle and the cheerful face was a red one with weepy eyes. 

 I did see this coming. A wise friend of mine has told me that I should take a break from my beloved toddlers. That was how I failed myself. I didn't know what to do, I thought I could wait a few weeks to take a few days off. But that stupid mitten got dunked and the next day I found myself unable to control my sobs. 

 I do like to think of myself as a rock. 'Oh, don't worry, I've got broad shoulders. I can handle anything.' Except when it comes to screams, or mittens in toilets. Did I mention the goose eggs inflicted by banging ones own heads on the hard floor? Or the pushing, biting or pulling of hair that seems to happen every time we turn around? Or the socks and shoes kicked off and the ensuing meltdowns when they hear the word no? 

 What I learned today is that I don't need to be the rock. I also don't need and don't want to be the mud puddle. What my beloved toddlers need from me is to be solid ground. To take a day off once in a while, to sit down and read stories and play toys instead of running around busily getting everything done all day. And maybe even to fail sometimes.

I left the lamp on for you tonight

Not going to lie, it's been on for the last few days, but during the day you don't see the colorful dinosaurs it casts on the ceiling and walls.

I cleaned up your room on Friday, in anticipation of your arrival. I left the lamp on then, too. But your siblings convinced you to stay home with them and have fun with them. I know you did have fun. But I missed you. And I can't help but wonder if you got the proper care that a 5 year old should get.

Mom told me what she witnessed the other day. The story is a sad one, not quite bad enough to get involved, but bad enough that it hurts us to think about. And I wish for you and your siblings that life could be easier. I wish the adults who take care of you when you aren't here would be capable of the situation. I wish that you would have a childhood full of everything you need. I wish I could do more for you instead of helplessly watch as your own dad neglects to care for all of you properly. 

About the time the lamp made its appearance in your room, something changed. I didn't hear so much about bad guys coming into the house at night and dreams about zombies. There's only been one morning when I woke up to find you sleeping beside me. 

So I left the lamp on for you tonight. I know it won't help you get to bed on time, or make sure you have proper meals tomorrow to help you on your second day of school, or help those adults learn to properly care for you and your siblings. But the lamp reminds me of you. And it can remind me to pray that the adults who are caring for you got you to bed on time tonight, and will have proper food for you so you can have a good day at school tomorrow. 

I left the lamp on for you. 

Bigger Than All

Sleep in peace tonight. God is bigger than anything you will face tomorrow. -Dave Willis

I can wrap my arms around you, but I can only hold you for a few moments. I can ask you if you're ok, but I won't know the real answer unless you trust me.

Your namesakes' arms are around you all the time and can always keep you from falling. And the One who made the night you write so eloquently about is watching over you. You can trust Him. 

Big

How old are you? I ask my chubby, blond haired, newly turned 3-year-old charge.

Big. He replies.

I wish I had that confidence. Instead I tell my sister that I feel small, I feel like a child trying to play an adult's roll. 

How ironic then, that children actually feel big.