Psalm 23

 Psalm 23

The Lord is my Shepherd.

 My leader, my protector, my guidance, my source of help, my source of nourishment, the One who takes care of all my needs each day.

I lack nothing.

He takes care of my every need. He is constantly watching out for me, looking ahead, making sure I am not in need of anything at any time. When I keep my eyes on my Shepherd, I don't have to worry about anything because that is His job.

He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside the still waters.

He knows where the grass is greenest so I can lie down to rest. He knows where the waters are still so I can be refreshed and quench my thirst. When I've reached the green pastures, he makes me settle for awhile to lie down and get the rest I so desperately need. He leads me to the still waters, meaning they may not be where I expect them to be. I can't search for my own still waters--that vacation I planned might not provide the refreshment I'm wanting or needing. He will guide me to the still water that truly refreshes. I just have to follow. 

He restores my soul.

He brings it back to its original condition and value, the way He designed it. He wipes away all the impurities that covered up my dignity, value and worth, making me shine with brilliance again, just as He designed me to. 

He leads me down paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

 My life points back to Him. The path He leads me on will draw more people to Him. When my life is all about me and my pleasure and comfort, it holds little to no meaning to those around me. When my life is all about pointing others to Him, my life holds incredible purpose.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

Valleys are only pathways to get from one location to another. We walk through them, but we don't settle there. Sometimes the valley is the only way to get to the main destination, so I have to trust that My Shepherd knows the best way there.  Many times a stream will run through a valley (providing a quiet place to refresh myself). Shadows only appear when there is light in the darkness. The shadow of death means that light exists. 

I will fear no evil

Fear is just the assumption that something bad or unpleasant is approaching.

For You are with me.

My Shepherd just became personal as I address Him rather than talk about Him. He is always with me, before me, beside me, in front of me, behind me, all around me. He leads the way, while watching out behind me at the same time.

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

He holds a rod to fight off and destroy my enemy. He uses His rod to correct me and keep me on the right path. He holds the staff, giving Him authority and power. He's the One in control, and the enemy must bow down to Him. His rod and staff comfort me, giving me the strength, support, and security I need to endure through the valley. 

He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies

While still in the valley, He prepares a table for me. He invites me to dine with Him, to feast with Him, to spend time with Him, all the while my enemy watches. What he meant to destroy me, God still uses to bless me, to honor me, to give me dignity, to draw me nearer still. He nourishes me and refreshes me as His guest of honor at the table with the King.

He anoints my head with oil.

He heals me. He purifies my head/mind to keep away the pests and distractions that so easily get entangled about me, overwhelming me and preventing me from seeing straight. He sets me apart for a divine purpose.

My cup overflows.

His blessings are endless. He pours so much into my cup that I don't have room to contain it, so it overflows into the lives of those around me. My life overflows with abundant praise to Him and love for others as a reaction to his abundant love for me.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. 

Surely, most definitely. Things of value and eternal purpose, deep loving-kindness will pursue me, chase me every day of my life. 

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. 

Forever starts now. I long for heaven, but the Lord is here now. Every time I worship Him, praise Him, gather together with other believers in His name, and spend time in His presence, I am dwelling in the house of the Lord. The whole earth is a sanctuary. Wherever I am, I can find Him. 

He indeed leadeth me. 

And so I follow. 

One minute, one hour, one day at a time. 

As long as I keep my eyes on my Shepherd, 

I know my needs are taken care of 

and my life holds value.

I needed this reminder today as I woke up feeling stressed and defeated once again trying to teach as effectively as I can during this pandemic year. Perhaps you needed it, too.

Thank you, Jennifer Rothschild, for helping me see just how intimate this psalm really is. No better person could have written it besides David, someone who could truly understand the perspective of a shepherd, a sheep, and a king. 

You don't know what you got

 . . . until it's gone.

And then we realize just how much we took for granted. 

A year ago we never dreamed of living a life without huge sporting events, big social gatherings, hugs, physical proximity to others, family events with more than immediate family, face to face conversations without fear of contracting or spreading a virus, shared meals, potluck dinners, parties, buffets, etc. 

Not more than a week ago we never knew how much we took heat, electricity, and water for granted until we were forced to experience one of Texas' coldest winter weeks ever without all of the above. 

Five years ago, two very dear friends (who don't even know each other) joyfully entered an anticipated life event side by side with their spouses only to face unimagineable grief as they found themselves in those celebratory events suddenly alone. 

A friend just celebrated her sweet mother's birthday, saying we'll celebrate right once things settle down. Things like COVID that keeps families spread apart, temporarily living life on pause, pushing back all plans to be together in order to keep everyone safe. But three weeks later, that sweet mother joined the celebration of angels in heaven rather than celebrating with her children and grandchildren "once things settle down."

I didn't know how much I took a simple breath for granted until I had to gasp for one just to climb into my own bed while sick with a secondary infection from COVID. 

A year ago, I didn't know teaching all my students in one classroom was something I should even take for granted, until I find myself now mentally and physically stretched trying to teach kids on two sides of a screen, some in front of me behind masks and transparent plastic walls with others sitting somewhere at home, distracted by all sorts of noise and interferences beyond my control. 

We just don't know what we got until it's gone.

Today we breathe in the fresh, warm Texas air with a little more gratitude. We conserve the lights and the water a little less reluctantly now that we know what it's like to run out. 

I climb in to bed and take a deep breath with a thankful heart because I know what it's like to struggle for that breath.

I cherish time spent with others these days, six feet apart or not, because you don't know how quickly it can all be swept away, leaving only memories in its place.

Things like COVID, sudden illnesses, car accidents, and a Texas snowpocalypse take a lot from us, but they actually do us a lot of good. They may shake us, but they wake us up to the reality in front of us, reminding us to realize what we have . . . before it's gone. 

Looking around with my eyes and heart a little more open these days.

You are what you eat, you see what you're looking for

 As I said in an earlier post, I've been studying and meditating over the 23rd psalm recently, and it's had a very deep impact on me.

Just as the saying goes, "You are what you eat." That applies not only to what you put in your mouth, as I learned in the Daniel Plan (and am currently convicted about not following), but it also applies to what you feed your soul. 

God prepares a feast for us every single day, if we'll just come to the table and partake of it. It doesn't matter where we are, what life stage we're in, how we feel, or what circumstances surround us. He prepares the table daily. He's always there, always present. On the mountain or in the valley, His love, mercy, compassion, and goodness are there--we just have to look for them. You'll always find what you're looking for.

I love studying words, especially biblical words. My favorite Bible studies are the ones that dig deep into the meaning and context of the actual Greek and Hebrew words used when the Scripture was written. I also love teaching the Love God Greatly studies that just study one verse at a time because I have the opportunity to teach other women how to do the actual word research themselves. 

I love writing words, especially in a poetic way.

So it doesn't surprise me how much this particular portion of Scripture captivates me. Jennifer Rothschild, one of my favorite Bible study teachers and authors, did an excellent job taking me through each and every word in the 23rd psalm, getting me to pause long enough to really reflect on what each verse meant, giving me time to chew on each line, savoring the message behind the words. The entire psalm together truly brings me a feast at the table with the King. 

I used to think that life was a series of ups and downs, of mountains and valleys, of seasons of blessing and seasons of loss. But between a recent sermon I heard from Josh Howerton pointing out that life is like a pair of parallel railroad tracks, with the good times and the bad times simultaneously existing, and this particular psalm pointing out that God prepares the table even in the middle of the valley, I've gained a whole new perspective on life. Yes, suffering may last only for the night, and  joy comes in the morning, but God's goodness can still be found in the night. His treasures are still there for us in the darkness. They're always there. We just have to look for them.

Last year when we ended the school year in such a scramble, going completely online, never getting any kind of closure with that particular class, I was determined to see God in it. I looked for Him, and I found Him everywhere. Sure, the year held so much loss and discomfort, but it also held abundant blessing and opportunity.

This school year, on the contrary, has been an uphill battle, leaving me stuck in the valley more often than not. I started the year optimistic and determined, but the daily struggle has wearied me and taken a toll on me physically. Some days it's hard not to see all the negative all around me and wonder how much I can physically and mentally keep on pushing and fighting through the constant stress. It reminds me a lot of our family's trek through the adoption process twice. I kept my focus on the mountaintop, making it the ultimate goal, until I got to the top of the mountain and looked back. The treasures I held dear that  proved to be the most valuable in my future came more from the experience in the valley than from standing at the top of the mountain, having achieved my goal. The good was always there, running parallel with the struggles in the battle. 

This valley of a year isn't leading to a mountaintop teaching experience any time soon. The political war raging about me isn't going anywhere, even with the election over. The threat of COVID will be around for a long time, no matter how quickly they can make the vaccination more easily available. As if the year didn't hold enough challenge, then God decided to literally freeze Texas in our tracks for a few days, leaving devastating effects all around me. Struggles and battles are always going to exist, but so is the goodness of God. If I keep holding my breath till the battle's over, I will have missed out on the treasure (the nourishment) I needed to carry me through the next battle, which, by the way, has probably already started. 

We go from grace to grace, from one hard time to the next, abounding in God's strength and favor. 

I've got two more days of my study of Psalm 23 before I can share the feast that God shared with me over the last two months. For now, I'm going to take my eyes off the mess of my house, the busted pipes, the mounds of laundry needing to be done, the empty grocery shelves, the scattered work schedules, the trauma my students have likely suffered over the last week, the heartache several friends are experiencing, the cancer that my friends are facing, the never-ending hateful political comments on Facebook, the morality crisis in our nation, the sick parent struggling to get well, the constant threat of COVID, the painful ingrown toenail (just being real), the struggle to parent an adult child whose emotional age does not match his physical age, the financial concerns over several unexpected bills, the lingering long-haul effects from having had the coronavirus, the unrealistic and unethical expectations of teachers and students during a pandemic, the 20 parent conferences I need to schedule and hold virtually over the next week, the five English writing samples I need to squeeze out of my non-English speaking students over the next two weeks, the lack of connection with friends and family over the last year, the cold temps, the missed vacations and celebrations, the longing for spring, etc., etc. (you get the point). Instead I'm going to open my eyes and look for God's goodness all around me, yes, even in this valley of a year. 

Today, I'm thankful for this time (on a Friday) to sit by the fire and just think, write, and process (notice I said write before process--because writing is how I process). No wonder I get so flustered when I don't find time to write. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you feel God's warm embrace around you today. Think I'm going to go make a hot cup of chai to accompany me beside the warm fire on this 6th unexpected day off (while my hard working husband and son work on fixing our pipes). 

Teaching during the pandemic of 2020/21

Students, Students Everywhere

Students are here

Students are there

In class or in bed at home

They join from anywhere.

One day at school

The next day online

"Connecting from El Salvador? 

Sure, I guess that's fine!"

Some days they work hard

Other days they only play

Some have structured learning

Some don't connect all day.

Routine and consistency

No longer can exist

I suggest a daily schedule

and give a daily check-off list.

We try to have discussions

With both groups at one time.

We try to use our whiteboards

to add twelve nickels and a dime.

But with muffled conversations

Behind masks and plastic walls

And one who turns their camera off

While another shows off her dolls.

To actually hold all their attention

And really drive the concept in

I admit defeat so often

And have to teach it all again.

Where rigor once held meaning

And practice happened every day

We now barely scratch the surface

As we learn in this new way.

Everything takes longer

Both for the students and for me

A simple daily warm-up

Takes the normal prep times three.

First to prerecord it

Then to assign it virtually

Then to teach in person

And translate as need be.

I harp on kids to finish

And beg for work from kids not there

Teaching in this model

Has become a huge nightmare.

I feel so ineffective

When I see the gaps and holes,

Knowing so many different factors

Lie outside of my control.

I lay awake at night

Wondering what else I can try

This concept seems so ridiculous

Should I laugh or should I cry?

I know that when I'm stretched

There's a purpose up ahead.

One day I will look back

And see just where it led.

Meanwhile I press on

And do the best that I can do.

Praying for daily strength and wisdom

From the One who carries me through.

Students here, students there

All leaning on just one me.

Taking time today to care for my own needs

So I can be the best I can be.

 

Winter storm 2021

It's funny because 2021 has felt like a winter storm ever since it started, at least from a teacher's perspective. Now I sit here in my quiet, dark house (to conserve energy) with only candlelight by my computer, listening to the fire crackle in the fireplace, watching the rare Texas snow gently fall outside, and I feel calmed by the actual winter weather. 

It means I can stay home, I can extend my morning quiet time in the Word, I can talk some things out with God, I can rest by my purring little cat all curled up next to me, I can write this blog, I can catch up on school work, I can plan lessons . . . I can stop hurrying, I can think things through, and I can rest.

Truthfully, I will forever look back at the year 2020 as a gift to my soul. It reminded me of my need for quiet and solitude to really feel alive and regenerated, to feel like I am able to be my best self and give the best of me to others. Not everyone is wired like me, so the loss of physical connection with others and the forced isolation did a number on their social personalities. Not me. It refreshed my soul like no other year of my life. 

That's not to say people don't matter to me. I just connect with people in a quiet, deep way, and I thrive on spending time one-on-one with people or in a situation where we have opportunities to communicate often through writing. I am much better with my words when I have a chance to write them, and I tend to get choked up when there are too many people or my voice gets swallowed by noise and other voices louder than my own. I listen and observe most of the time, and then I find a quiet place to reflect and process all the information I've just taken in. I give my students 30 minutes of quiet, peaceful music every day to do the same, and they say it's their favorite part of the day. I may not be that fun, energetic, playful teacher that others are, but my kids and my colleagues know where to come when they need a moment of peace. 

This year has proven to be the polar opposite of 2020 for me, as teaching in this new reality has made me feel like a scattered mess. I struggle to concentrate, my mind constantly runs, and I have little to no time to be alone, to embrace a silent hour to thoroughly plan a lesson or figure out how to reteach a concept that my students didn't grasp well. Sadly, those re-teaching lessons seem to be necessary more often than not these days because trying to teach two separate ways (in person and virtually, sometimes both simultaneously) is nearly impossible and is just not effective. Nor can I be effective when I'm expected to do both in the same amount of time as I was once expected to just teach a full in-person class, and with students that change back and forth from in person to virtual on a weekly basis. We need consistency, routine, and daily practice to really internalize what we're learning. With this model of "choosing" what days I go to school and what days I learn online (when most of my materials are left at school), I, as their teacher, am left to meet expectations of what and how my kids are learning that are just beyond my control at this point.  I see the gaps get bigger, and no matter how much I problem solve, plan, collaborate, try new ideas, I still feel an incredible sense of defeat. I am a teacher, and I want to be effective in what I do. When something doesn't work, I go back to the drawing board and find a way that it will work. I've had difficult years where particular situations called for particular ways of teaching, and I've had successful years where all the dynamics just worked well together. But in all eighteen years of my teaching career, I don't know that any other year has left me feeling so defeated. 

Part of the problem is the model of teaching two separate groups, part of it is the time factor of having to teach everything twice (once recorded on video, and then again in person). Part of it is trying so hard to keep both groups fully engaged, part is the constant, never-ending interruptions with technology issues, part is the liberty that both students and parents have taken with the new "option" to stay home, changing the students' sense of structure and routine significantly from one day to the next (which has to be allowed because of the need to quarantine for either having symptoms of COVID yourself or being exposed to someone who does). But I think the biggest problem is that the expectations held over both students and teachers haven't changed. The rubrics that administrators are looking for are still the same. Student growth and achievement is still measured by the same scoring rubrics. The same tests that take away so much actual teaching time are still required and now take double or triple the effort to make those tests doable for our virtual learners, as well, despite the fact that we need MORE teaching time to even think about meeting the expectations over us. And besides that, our students are starving for attention, connection, and relationship right now, so I don't understand why anyone in their right mind would think the lost time and pressure of yet another test is going to benefit anyone. Especially when we know the results will be skewed because not everyone is testing with the same variables in place. Something has to give. We've got to let something go before we convince students that interrupting their already interrupted learning time in order to obtain a test score is the ultimate goal in education  or before we convince teachers that their own lives and mental health don't matter. 

IT. IS. INSANE.

Not a single rubric has been rewritten to give a teacher credit for how she handled the latest interruption, for how she addresses the current mental health pandemic in her classroom, for her innovations and changes to help students learn more self-sufficiency to prepare them for a possible need to quarantine, for her endless pursuit of learning new technology, for the hours upon hours she spends to make sure her students know how to access the digital resources to help them on the days they are not at school in person, or for the ways she lets her students know she loves them and cares about them without being able to hug them or work closely with them like before. Not a single rubric can measure all that these kids have learned in the midst of this pandemic. All we are measuring is what they have supposedly lost academically rather than all they have gained experientially. Our kids, and our teachers, are blossoming with creativity that's not measured anywhere. We've learned to survive and find a new way to teach and learn, but with that should come a new way to measure and define true learning and teaching. 

Teachers are stretched so thin right now, and perhaps the greatest issue I see is that all this chaos leaves no time for our own mental or physical health or to take care of our families' mental and physical health. I have friends and family experiencing huge losses, some related to COVID, some not, that I have no time to reach out to. I have two adult children who need guidance, and I'm not always mentally available to them. I have a husband and marriage that need my time and devotion. I have two elderly parents who have been hit by COVID, and I barely have time to check up on them or take them the things that they might be needing. I have family members I haven't connected with in months, definitely not due to not having them on my mind. I lose sleep, my heart races, my blood pressure rises, my mind races and mixes my thoughts and ideas all together, and then I get up and face another day. Some days I feel like I reached the majority of my kids, other days not so much. Like one of my little girls in class always says, "We just try our best, right, Teacher?"

So, I've been spending about 30 minutes of quiet time each morning of 2021 so far studying Psalm 23, one verse at a time, pondering over each and every word. My son, Juan David, gifted me a gift card for my favorite bookstore for Christmas, and God led me to use it to purchase this study on Psalm 23 by Jennifer Rothschild. I took interest in it a while back and then forgot about it, but I think God knew I needed it for this particular time. He has a way of leading me to just the right study when I need to hear something specific from Him.  

I think one of my favorite verses in this psalm is the second part of verse 2. He (my Shepherd) leads me beside still waters. Still waters are so calming to me, but I realized the verse means more than just the calming aspect of the waters. Sheep won't drink unless the waters are still. Still waters serve two purposes--to give us rest and to refresh us. I literally cannot get the refreshment I need until the waters are still. God knows my job has turned into a human hamster wheel this year, and He knew that I, along with all my fellow teachers, needed to find those still waters again. 

And He sent snow. 

And a snow day tomorrow.

I'll take it. I'll receive it as a gift, a day or two to stay home, to embrace the quiet, and to rest and refresh from the still waters of this actual winter storm.

And then I'll get back up and press on through the valley of this "winter storm". And remember I'm in my school for a purpose, teaching from my heart, whether it's measured by a rubric or not. 

On Friday we did a Valentine scavenger hunt during our Valentine party, and they had to think of someone they loved. They all ran to me and said, "We love Mrs. Alspaugh." They are my why, and God gave each and every one of them to me precisely at this time. 

A Change in Posture

I attend a big church, and I have grown to love and appreciate the wealth of opportunities in a big church.  So many different ways to connect with others in so many different areas of life. Such a variety of resources to lean into when you need them or to tap into to help someone in a crisis. Yes, at times it can seem flashy and almost impersonal, but that impersonality can fade quickly once you find that right group to connect and grow with. And if you happen to find several groups to connect with depending on your stage of life, that bigness tends to fade as well when you see people overlapping from group to group.

I've been part of a big church for the last 18 years, but before that, I attended a handful of smaller churches that provide a completely different type of intimacy, community, and connection. The church body within that building has more interconnectedness as a whole between all of its members, people have a closer relationship with the pastor himself, and classes/groups are based more on age commonality than on a specific stage of life or interest. 

Both have been very meaningful to me. Both have made my life so much richer and helped me grow in Biblical literacy and my personal relationship with Christ. Both have provided me with close friends and godly counsel throughout my life. 

The small churches I attended were on the quiet, reserved, more conservative side. You might sway a little while you sing, but there's not much lifting of hands or physical demonstration during worship. Worship happened in your heart and did not call attention to yourself. I guess you could say it feels a little "stiff". 

Big churches are a bit different in that your own personal style of worship doesn't call as much more attention to you in a bigger crowd, so you can feel more free to express your praise in a physical way. I'll admit, growing up in the smaller church makes it hard to let the "stiffness" go. In fact, you don't even realize how stiff it feels until you feel free enough to release your inner praise and let it express itself outwardly. And when you do, it's like it opens up a whole new facet of praise and connection that you've never experienced between you and God.

The other night in church, I felt the Spirit nudge me to change my posture of praise. To pull those stiff hands out of my pockets and lift them up, keeping my hands wide open to both RELEASE what I'm holding onto and to RECEIVE whatever He has for me in that moment. To physically demonstrate that I believe what I say, that I believe He inhabits the praises of His people, that He's present in the room with us. As I did, the words seemed to jump off the screen at me, coming alive, lighting up my heart in a new way. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang from my heart and held my hands open, palms up, simultaneously releasing and receiving. I made a commitment to continue to lift up those open hands as a reminder of what I am doing as I sing a joyful noise unto the Lord. 

I have long been in need of a change of posture. So far, the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2021 haven't been easy. This last month has already seen my stress level rise much higher than is physically healthy and brought challenges every day, both at home and at work. But I'm determined to release those challenges and stressful situations to God on  a daily basis and receive sustenance, comfort, strength, and guidance from Him. Lifting my open hands to sing to him, whether alone on my couch, in a crowd at church, or going for a walk while listening to praise music--it's a physical reminder that I believe in God's sovereignty. faithfulness, and presence. .