All things new

I thought starting out a new school year in the midst of an adoption process was hard. But I made it.

I thought starting out a new year in the midst of an adoption appeal, amidst all the anxiety and always keeping plans on hand for the possibility of being out for the next six to eight weeks while I traveled to Colombia was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while in the process of writing and publishing a book was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while in the middle of a new adoption process without the guarantee that it would be successful was hard, but I made it. 

I thought starting out a new year as a new adoptive parent of a teenage boy while also teaching a brand new class of four year olds (of which I had NO experience or preparation for) was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year while the building was still under construction was hard, but I made it.

I thought starting out a new school year online was hard, but we did it. 

But starting out a new year teaching both online and in-person while still in the midst of a pandemic--that's a whole new level of hard. A mental and emotional hard that is very difficult to explain. 

Add to that the new grief/learning curve of having my baby gone to college, having to emerge from the last six months of blissful silence of teaching and working from the comfort of my front porch, saying goodbye to the dog we added to our family to take the place of a brother and sister that didn't come home eleven years ago, and watching the church you attended faithfully for twelve years close its doors to the Saturday night service your family always attended. It's a lot of loss and change to try to swallow and process and grieve and keep moving forward all at once. 

The first week back to school (after teaching online for a month) definitely kept everyone on our toes, as we had to make minute by minute decisions as to what worked and didn't work, what kept our kids safe and what didn't, what teaching techniques felt successful and which ones didn't. Everyone supported everyone, the kids listened and tried hard to please you on both sides of the screen, and you could tell everyone was just happy to feel a new sense of structure taking shape. 

The second week back held a lot of trial and error as to how to keep kids engaged both at school and at home, figuring out how to balance this new normal, and getting both sides into a solid routine, knowing every day holds the risk of exposure to COVID that might send you home to quarantine for two weeks or to nurse yourself back to health. Living with that anxiety alone is probably the hardest part of it all. 

The third week back felt long, as the expectations of what you're supposed to be teaching and the reality of what's really happening in the classroom started to collide. The COVID slide/cliff is real and can't be ignored. The gaps are bigger, the kids are far more out of practice, and they are restless, desperate for this virus to go away so they can get back to playing and socializing like they're supposed to. For me, my kids got comfortable this week and seemed to need constant reminders to social distance, to stay in their seat where there is a plastic barricade for their own protection, to sanitize their hands after touching something that someone else touched. 

And that rigor we're supposed to be teaching with? Ha. Academics have taken a big step back in my classroom as I shifted my focus to teaching self-sufficiency and independence. "This is our daily routine, boys and girls, and these are the activities we do every single day in the same order." Before we can focus on any kind of response to reading, we have to focus on actually reading. Back to repeating and reading high frequency word lists, simple syllable flashcards, etc. And number sense? We can't even begin to work with four digit numbers when we still don't understand two digit numbers. It's gonna be one of those years where we have to back up quite a bit here at the beginning to set a solid foundation before we can build on it. And it's more than obvious that these kids haven't had to sit in a classroom for half a year. We ALL got used to the comforts of home without strict restroom and eating schedules/limits and are having a hard time having to work from a hard desk and chair all day. It's hard for the kids in class to see the online kids "come to class" with a snack or sit comfortably on a couch or bed, while it's hard for the online kids to see the kids in class be able to see and socialize with each other.

I must admit, this week was hard, and I started out a rather weepy mess, driving to school in tears the first few days. I missed my boy, the reality of the losses at church hit me hard, my house felt different and empty without our dog, and I felt this guilt about letting him go, even though I knew it was the most compassionate choice due to his multiple health issues. I got to school on Monday and had minor interruptions seem to break my concentration and focus all day long. No matter what I did, I couldn't keep everyone happy, I couldn't keep every student engaged, and I couldn't meet every expectation put over me- at school, at home, and especially outside of school and home. I felt like I just might scream or fall apart if one more person reminded me that I let them down or disappointed them in some way (not just in school) or just didn't do something correctly. I needed encouragement, so I specifically prayed for it every day. 

And then the librarian let me know that my class behaved better than any class all year so far.

The SPED inclusion teacher told me how much she loved my class.

My assistant principal had a dance party with my kids during indoor recess and told me what a great group they are.

My little girls complemented me on my hair, my pretty bows, my earrings that I rarely wear, my shirt that I pulled out for the first time since the temps started lowering, and my purple mask that matched the purple in my shirt.

My kids told me they love our 30 minute independent writing time most out of everything we do, those 30 minutes after lunch when I put on calming music and we just all sit and write. For this writer who loves teaching writing more than anything, having a class that loves it as much as I do is a HUGE blessing, compliment, and encouragement.

My husband had a delicious dinner waiting for me every single night, along with a clean kitchen. 

I reached 500 miles on my bike since COVID started, 500 miles of exercise and mental retreat I didn't used to give myself. 

God even prompted me one evening to get out my binder full of Scripture verses that I've colored and just sit and read them aloud. Each one encouraged me, uplifted me, soothed my heart, and affirmed me.

Though I started out a weepy mess this week, God reminded me that He sees me and hears me and walks beside me. He reminded me that I'm exactly where He wants me doing exactly what He called me and equipped me to do. There are many parts to teaching virtually that I actually really enjoy, such as prerecording lessons and letting kids watch them and learn at their own pace, in their own way. I've enjoyed watching my kids become more self-sufficient and self-directed, helping them realize all the resources they can choose to tap into, giving them options of how they present their work--on a digitized worksheet they did on the computer, using tools on the computer to draw or type in various colors, working on a dry erase board as their scratch paper, working in their journals and then taking pictures to upload to their online journal. I enjoy a near paperless classroom and the ability to pull out my phone or ipad to check up on their progress or make comments on their work at any time. I enjoy the daily check in from an online student who leaves me daily audio comments on how his day is going and how much he enjoys his schoolwork. I love hearing my kids on both sides of the screen tell me how happy they are every day to be "in school". 

I remember a quote from Mary DeMuth from my online Bible study this summer that fits well right now. Grief and joy hold hands. I'm in the midst of a lot of loss and change right now, but I'm also finding a lot of joy in all the newness around me. Change is hard, but it's also good and sometimes quite needed. As I look at the pictures my kids upload of their work and I see those masks on their faces in the picture, I can't help but tear up. I should see a smile on their face instead of a mask. I should be hugging them instead of constantly stepping back a little bit further. But then I see them hard at work, each in their own little way, and I smile behind my own mask, knowing that God is definitely making all things new. Beauty will emerge when we can one day take these masks off, smile, and huddle together again, and we will be thankful for all that we learned through it. 

I stopped praying for protection from COVID every day and started praying for protection THROUGH it. Through this season, He's still in control and still by my side. 

I Love My Church

It's true. I really do love my church. My people. My safe place. My place to be filled and to fill others, to serve and to actively be part of the body of Christ.  A place to both learn from others and to teach what God is teaching me. To be prayed for and to lift up and carry others in prayer. And it's been so good to be back in the service in person the last two weeks, to be back home. I teared up on the drive there last week, and I teared up during worship this week. Life has held so many ups and downs, but my church has always been there to meet me through every one of them. There are pros and cons to being part of a big church versus a small church. Many people can walk in and only see the cons. After serving at my church for seventeen years now, I walk in and only see the pros. So. many. pros. I love everything about being part of a big church. 

Only being back home looks quite a bit different than I could have envisioned just six months ago when the Church unexpectedly left the building. Back home meant God took us back to the main campus where we started out seventeen years ago. 

The campus we had no intention of ever leaving when our local Firewheel campus opened in the spring of 2008, but God made it pretty clear He had plans for us to raise our son there, closer to home. So we did. We left a Life Group and small group that we dearly loved to move to a smaller campus closer to home. And I must say that we all thrived at the Firewheel campus. It had a small church feel with all the big church benefits. We attended the Saturday night service, which gave us a closer relationship with all of the leadership in the church in a more casual setting. David grew close to every leader over him from fourth grade and up, diving in to every youth activity, as well as every mission trip opportunity offered him. Mike served as an usher at Firewheel and attended Man Church pretty consistently at the main campus as long as his schedule allowed, maintaining connections with friends there while encouraging friends from Firewheel to join him. I found my niche teaching women's Bible studies and working closely with the women's ministry. A connection in a women's Bible study led us to a new Saturday night Life Group that literally just wrapped its arms around us and carried us through our entire adoption saga. Being part of such a big church gave us the opportunity to introduce Juan David to his new church and start attending on Saturday evenings online all the way from Bogota', Colombia. So by the time he came home, our church was already familiar to him. He fell in love with Lakepointe Church immediately, grew close to the youth leaders rather quickly, and found his own relationship with Christ through the youth ministry of our church. Eventually he found himself serving as a leader in some capacity, as well. 

We loved being part of the smaller campus and know that the location allowed us to be more involved in weekly activities. But the main campus still held ministries that kept us with our feet in both locations. Man Church, Women's Bible study leader events, Women's Ministry gatherings, Rockwall Christian Writer's Group, Lakepointe Adoption and Foster Care Ministry, ReEngage, mission trips, and youth events. 

Still, we loved our little campus and had no intentions of leaving. We loved attending every Saturday night as a family, where we occupied one of the rows all the way up in the front. We loved our Life Group, and we loved serving there. When I think back to that last week we attended together as a family back in February, I tear up at the fact that we had no idea it would be the last time. Our whole world was about to change. 

COVID arrived in the U.S. a week later and spread like wildfire. Our weekly family church attendance on Saturday nights took place from the comfort of our living room and through a Zoom link for Life Group over the following six months. Then out of the blue this summer, our Life Group called a midweek meeting to break the news that whenever we did rejoin physically as a church, our Saturday night service no longer remained an option. Either we switch to Sundays, or we go back to the main campus. Though we had no intention of ever leaving Firewheel, I will say that the Sunday morning option did not even feel like an option to me. I felt in my heart at the first announcement that God was pulling us back to where we started. David was about to graduate and go to college, Juan had already gotten heavily involved in another church in McKinney on Sundays with his friends he met at DBU, and I had already taken a step back from women's ministry in order to attend a midweek marriage ministry with Mike at the Rockwall campus. No better time in life to make a change than this, I guess. 

Sundays are sacred to me. They are my day of rest and rejuvenation. A day to wake up and not feel rushed to be somewhere first thing in the morning, to catch up on physical rest, to spend quality time with God, to reconnect with my spouse, my family, or friends. To find time to write if there's something on my heart. When I first found Saturday night church sixteen years ago, church took on a whole new meaning to me, and I finally understood God's mandate to take an entire day each week to rest. Sunday is like my seventh day, and to me, it's sacred.  I just physically and mentally cannot seem to rest on a Saturday, as I feel like I have so much to catch up on after a full week of work. As long as I have the option to attend church on a Saturday night, to me, there is no other option. 

So, though we had no intentions of leaving, it seems that God has closed our chapter at Firewheel and is pulling us back to where we first started. In a sense, like coming back home. Since I always kept one foot planted in both locations, anyway, it doesn't feel a bit foreign to me. I feel like God is telling us, "I'm doing a new thing. Don't you see it?" We've been part of three different Life Groups over the last 17 years, and each one was exactly what we needed with the teaching we needed and the relationships we needed at the time. Perhaps now that we're entering a brand new "childless" season as a couple, there is a new group, new teacher, and new set of relationships He is preparing for us. 

All I know is, no matter what campus (or even country) I find myself in, Lakepointe Church always feels like home to me. And it is so, so good to be back home in church in the physical presence of other believers.

I really do love my church and am so grateful to be part of it for the last 17 years that I've lived in Texas.  

Walking back into the fire

It's been six months since I've had kids in my classroom. Kids who wrote the date under the calendar for me two days before we left for spring break. They got busy and forgot to change the date the next day, and not a single child has been in my classroom since then to change it . In fact, it still reads the same today. I haven't had the need to change it since everything went digital, and there's also something almost sacred about leaving it there just the way those kids left it. 

Now here we are six months later, and tomorrow a whole new set of students will walk into my classroom. Well, at least half of them will, while I continue to teach the other half virtually. And the half that do come in to the classroom will come in fully masked and will wear face shields all day and sit at desks barricaded by plastic. Thankfully we've already had four weeks of bonding over a screen and time to build some sense of community--without all the masks and barricades. And it's actually been an advantage to meet my kids right in their homes, giving me a truer sense of the environment they're coming from. 

I must admit I have a lot of mixed emotions about the big day tomorrow. Excitement to see those smiling faces in person after teaching them over a screen for the last four weeks. Sadness to know I can't hug them. Nervous about having to teach behind a mask. Scared about all the extra exposure to people who may be carrying the virus after having carefully isolated myself for so long. Heartache over seeing my kids from last year that never got the closure to second grade they deserved. Dread over having to say goodbye to the bliss of silence and the excuse to keep to myself more (which has been a huge gift to me, honestly.) A bit of anxiety over what might be next, or how long our in-person class will last.

 Bringing kids back into the classroom complicates the whole scenario of any possibilities of getting sick, making it so much more important to get the kids into a strict routine as quickly as possible because once you're out, you're out for awhile. But so far, as we've watched other schools around the country reopen before we did, I haven't heard of any huge spikes in cases. So perhaps we'll all be just fine. That's what I'm praying for, anyway. But God knows, and He will be right there no matter what, either protecting me from sickness or giving me strength through it. 

I don't know what this coming week, month, or year will look like, but when I look at that haunting picture from six months ago, I'm reminded to seize the day at hand. To make it matter. To make it my top priority to love my kids and make them feel as safe and secure as possible. To take the time to rest and care for myself so I can stay as healthy as possible for them. To keep track of my own batteries and know when I need to recharge. To encourage and uplift my teammates and my leaders as we walk back into the fire together. 

If I've learned anything through these last six months, I've learned to protect my need to spend time alone. Having so much time alone made me see how much I need it and failed to protect it. Just like I plan time to spend time with others, I have to plan time to spend with me (and God). I process things at a different pace, and if I don't give myself that time to work out my thoughts and emotions--by reading, writing, journaling, blogging, sitting in silence on my porch while it's still dark out, or just out riding my bike, I struggle to move forward.  I get stuck and can't even begin to articulate why. Life has changed and continues to change in rather significant ways that I'm daily trying to process emotionally. Plus I'm completely out of practice of being around people 24/7, so I've noticed that my social battery dies quite a bit more quickly these days. 

So, today being a holiday, I planned for a morning of silence for just me. And boy did I need it, as I cleaned like crazy as a way to work out my nerves regarding all that change that tomorrow will bring. Then Mike and I sat and binged on our favorite show on Netflix all day long after he got off work early in the afternoon. Lol. Not the most exciting Labor Day, but I knew what I needed before tomorrow. 

Now as I head to bed, I'm hoping for a calm night without any of those crazy first day of school nightmares! If I do have any, I'm sure they'll be like no other first day nightmare I've ever had before because there's never been a first day back like this one.