Confession 22: A Bit of Dirt

I do not, in general, like to get dirty. I'm sure I could delve deep into my past to discover the reason behind this, but it doesn't change the fact that I like to be clean. I don't like to go a day without showering. I don't like it when I'm walking after it rains or snows and dirty water splashes up on my legs from my shoes. I don't buy jeans that look dingy, however stylish they may be. And I don't like it when dirt sneaks in under my gardening gloves. I just don't like dirt. As a parent, my personal dislike of dirt has been transferred to my son in that I don't like him to be dirty either. I don't like it when his hair starts to get flat, or when dirt starts to collect under his fingernails. I don't like it when he spills food on his clothes, or when he smears his food all over his face and hair. It bugs me. And no matter how hard I try, I can't just let it be. However, this past week, I found myself reconsidering my stance on dirt.

We spent a day with some friends in Kirksville, Missouri last week. They have a beautiful old Victorian home with a spacious backyard flowing out from a wide wooden deck. The evening of our visit was spent outside on the deck enjoying the warmth of an early summer evening. While we adults sat around and talked, the children were running free in the backyard, playing in a sandbox and with the garden hose. My son, who is now one, was crawling around all over the deck. When the time came to go inside and get the children settled for bed I noticed that my son was filthy. Not only were his knees dirty, but his shorts, shirt, feet, hands and face were all smeared with dirt and sweat. My initital instinct was, of course, to give him a bath. But as I looked at his tired face I realized that he was perfectly content in his state of dirtiness. The dirt he was covered in meant that he had been doing things, important things. He had been exploring and investigating a brand new world. He had been driving a fire truck and delivering water balloons to a newfound friend. He didn't mind the dirt. It was part of the experience of reveling in the summer evening.

As I lay in bed that night, a thousand similiar summer evenings of my own childhood flashed through my mind. I remembered playing outside until the sun set and the street lights came on. I remembered riding bikes through mud puddles and playing in a gravel drive. I remembered using the swimming pool as a big bath tub and going to sleep surrounded by the smell of chlorine mixed with sweat. Those were beautiful days... days of meaning... days of accomplishment.

In her book, Recieving the Day, Christian writier Dorothy Bass talks about reclaiming the Sabbath. She states that on the Sabbath, it is important to celebrate and revel in God's creation, for God created everything of life on this planet and declared that all of it was good. By reveling in God's creation, we connect with God and bring glory to all that he made. This, I would say, includes dirt. We were created of dirt and to dirt we will return, so what does it matter if we carry a little of it with us along the way? I guess a little bit of dirt never hurts. Maybe it can even be good for the soul.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 21: The Trouble With Time, Part 2

Over the weekend, my family and I celebrated my mother's 60th birthday. To think of my mother as being 60 years old is somewhat troublesome to me, for the image I have of a 60 year old woman and what I know to be true of my mother are two completely different things. I've heard that 60 is now the new 40 and when I look at my mother, I think that must be true. Age itself is a stereotype. Deep down I know it's just a number, but the numbers have the power of eliciting profound emotions. I still struggle with the fact that I'm 30. I never really thought that age would come. Is it really possible that I've lived 30 years? Could I really be 1/3 of the way through my life? What have I done with those 30 years? Where has the time gone? These questions creep into my mind every so often, and I have no real answers there.

After my mother's birthday party, I was talking to my husband about a conversation I'd had with my best friend's mother. She told me that Elaine and her husband Tim were going out of town for their anniversary this summer. It didn't hit me until I was talking to my husband that the reason Elaine and Tim are going off alone for their anniversary is that it will be their 10th. TEN YEARS!! They've been married for ten years! I lay in bed that night pondering the meaning of this. For some reason, I found myself a little sad at this revelation. It's not that I'm sad for them. Tim's a great guy and they have a wonderful relationship along with two beautiful children. There's nothing to be sad about in that. It's more the fact that I can remember their wedding so clearly. Plus the fact that I specifically remember being with them on their 5 year anniversary, and that anniversary does not seem, in my mind, like it took place more than 3 years ago at best. I kept doing the math over and over in my head, but each time I came up with 10 years. I wondered, "What does it mean?"

Before I knew it, I found myself wandering back through my childhood. Elaine and I have literally spent a lifetime together, so I found myself thinking about endless sleepovers and birthday parties and walks home from school. I thought about Barbie adventures and Trivial Pursuit and pogo sticks and roller skates. I thought of North and South and The Winds of War, made for T.V. miniseries we must have watched hundreds of times. I thought of years of laughter, and conversations that carried on regardless of time or distance. I thought of summers in college, sharing a small apartment with friends, staying up through the night talking of life, love, and all that the future would hold.

In that moment, I finally realized what had been troubling me all along. My childhood had passed from a recent memory to a distant one. It was, and is, truly gone for good. It's not that I want to go back and relive those days. I've come a long way since then. I fell in love with a wonderful man and we've created a beautiful child. We're building a life together, and I'm excited about all of the possibilities it holds. Yet, it is a mark of passage for me that my significant memories of ten years ago are that of an adult. I am getting older. We are all getting older, and it is not an easy thing to reconcile yourself with. My question now is, when do we get wiser?

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 20: Every Vote Counts

Around election time, you always hear campaign workers and teachers telling people that "every vote counts" so make sure you go to the polls and cast your vote. I've also been told by my mother that you can't complain about a politician or bill if you don't vote. Well, I'm going to complain anyway.

I didn't vote this week during American Idol, but I'm wondering now if I should have. Last night, my husband and I's favorite contestant this season was inexplicably sent home. In my mind, Melinda Doolittle was the best singer of the bunch, and proved week after week that she deserved the Idol crown. In most cases, it's probably best that we each don't get what we deserve because it's probably a lot worse than what we have. In this case, however, I disagree. What were people thinking? Can people really prefer Blake to Melinda? Blake... Seriously?! It's not that he doesn't have talent. He can sing.. sort of. But he's not great. And the beatboxing thing? Give me a break! It's his only gimmick. It's all he does. Melinda showed her versatility week after week. She brought her A game every single time, and although I admit I questioned where she would fit into the music industry-- which genre she would fill-- and I thought there were times she seemed a bit too old for her age, she flat-out outsang every other contestant.

So, what happened? Did the voters get bored with her consistency? Did she not have a bubbly enough personality? Did she not sell the songs enough? Did the voters not want another African-American Idol? (Sorry, Chris-- had to throw that one in.) As Randy and Paula both said, Melinda will be successful regardless of her place in Idol standings, but it's the principle of the matter for me. Melinda should not have been voted off last night.

Then again, we do live in a nation where the majority of voters elected Gerorge W. Bush to office--twice! As Americans, we don't have the best track record. So, what can you do? I guess every vote does count after all.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 19: The Trouble With Time

Why is it that time always seems to be an enemy? Either hours drag on like days or days speed by like hours. There never seems to be a happy medium. Maybe it's just that we're conditioned by our culture to always be looking ahead. Most of us aren't taught to just live in the moment, although I've found that life is much richer when we do. After our son was born last June, my husband and I made a point to not rush him through the various stages of his first year. We took delight in each day and each stage (some more than others) and although we looked forward to watching him develop, we didn't want to rush it along. I read the concerns of many new mothers on a local breastfeeding list serve about holding their baby too much while he/she sleeps. I always want to tell them to just hold them, and hold them as long as they can. Before you know it your child will be off exploring the world and will prefer a nice solid mattress to your shoulder.

I have to remind myself about time today as I'm finishing up one of the longest weeks I've had all year. I keep thinking to myself, "I just want this week to end!!" I remind myself that we should never wish for time to end, but should relish what we can of what we have. I remind myself that it's a beautiful day outside, and I work with beautiful people all around me. I remind myself that the children I work with are full of life and energy, and I should be grateful to be in the presence of such unencumbered spirit. I remind myself that my long drive to and from work is an opportunity to reconnect with myself or to spend some quiet time with God. My boss bought me an ice cream cone from the ice cream truck which visited school today and I remind myself that the simple things in life really do bring the most joy. Finally, I remind myself that it's Friday, and I have a whole weekend ahead of me to spend time with my husband and son, relax, unwind, live in the moment, and not think about time! Enjoy your weekend!!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 18: Caution: Road Construction Ahead

Kansas City is one of the worst cities I have ever been in when it comes to road construction. In the three years I've been commuting, several major arteries through the city have been closed off due to road construction with nothing new opened up to relieve excess traffic. Detours are complicated and poorly labeled and, most frustrating of all, no new progress seems to be made. For instance, construction has been underway for at least fifteen years in the so-called "Grandview Triangle" of Kansas City where at least three major highways intersect. In that fifteen or so years, the highway department has worked continuously to build the exact same road structure that was present before, alleviating no traffic problems for the thousands of commuters who go in and out of the city each day. I realize that I know nothing about the intricacies of road construction and am not an expert by any means. But seriously, building the exact same thing? What's the point? It's not that I'm against road construction, per se, I just want to see some progress. I want someone who knows something about it to tell me what the point is, what good is going to come from it, how the inconvenience and extra work is going to be worth it in the end. I don't think that's asking too much.

As a Christian, I often feel like my life is one big road construction area. God has cut off major arteries, sent me on complicated detours, surprised me with unexpected Road Closed signs, and has been working on the same stretch of road for a number of years with no sign of an end in sight. However, I've learned over the years that one thing I can always count on is that there is a point to all of the construction. Although I might not see it right away, I know God has a plan of action, and that the work in progress is really a work toward progress. God is not going to spend fifteen, twenty, thirty or even fifty years re-building the same thing. God is always working on rebuilding and renovating for something better. The past five years have been an example of this for me.

I quit a teaching position five years ago with the intent of being hired on at a high school in Columbia, Missouri. The high school had no openings in their English department, and I instead found myself packing my bags, belongings and cats and moving to the Chicago-land to attend seminary and earn a Masters degree in Christian Education. Seminary was a great experience. I learned a lot, grew a lot, made wonderful new friends, and met the love of my life. I felt myself called into doing urban youth outreach, and have spent the past three years engaged in that endeavor. However, this Spring my husband and I found ourselves in front of another Road Closed sign as he was appointed to a new charge in Southwest Missouri. Caution: Major Detour Ahead. Initially, I had no idea what I was going to do in this area, but I trusted that God would open up another route for me to take, and sure enough, he did just that. After a five year hiatus, I am going back into the classroom to take up teaching once more. I will be teaching sophomore and junior English at Monett High School in Monett, Missouri. Although somewhat intimidated about going back into the classroom after a five year break, I think it will be a good experience. And although the past five years were somewhat of a professional detour for me, I learned a lot from all of the experience and will be a better classroom teacher because of them. The road is now opened, resurfaced and expanded, and I can't wait to get driving!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 17: Irreconcilable Differences

In the past few weeks, the organization I work for decided to sever its ties with the Kansas City Missouri School District and pull out the 38 before and after school programs it runs, as well as the over 7 million dollars it contributes to the district each year. The reason for the decision, in a nutshell, was irreconcilable differences. The school district underwent an administration change this year, the 6th or 7th administration change in less than ten years. The school board brought in a new superintendent (after they'd chosen three other finalists for the position) who has been making sweeping changes in curriculum, programs, staff, and building reorganization. Many teachers, parents and students feel it is too much, too soon. Our programs came under fire early on. The superintendent, never having observed our programs, continually referred to them as childcare programs, noting publicly that we did nothing more than provide parents babysitting services. Funding for our programs disappeared (the district claims it did not have the money), contract disputes ensued, and a tick for tat battle of words took place in the press, both sides lashing out at each other through print and network media. In the end, our organization decided to concede first, by announcing plans to completely pull out of the district at the end of this school year. They supplemented this announcement with a 12 page booklet detailing the conflict to be handed out to parents, business partners, and community leaders.

I do not disagree with the decision that was made, although I have some concerns about the process by which it was made and the lateness of the decision. Two months before the end of the school year doesn't leave a lot of time for changing course, and there are about 300 employees who depend on their paycheck. It's the irreconcilable differences that bother me the most. In an age where the divorce rate is 50 %, I wonder, what brings two parties to a point where they can no longer settle their differences? And why is the severing of a relationship considered a solution?

In this case, the superintendent made demands we could not meet while maintaining our vision and mission as an organization, as well as keeping our state funding and license. Yet I think, as a rule, we should not accept irreconcilable differences as an excuse to break ties or end relationships. We need to be taught, and we need to teach our children, the process of reconciliation. We need to encourage our national leaders to use reconciliation as a tool for governing. Heck, most of us need to learn to reconcile who we are with who we think we need to be. Jesus entire ministry on earth was one of reconciliation, his death and resurrection the means by which God was and is reconciled with all of us who are, were and will be. Reconcilable differences-- what a world of difference that would make!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Confession 16: Maundy Thursday

This week has been so hectic for me, I have to confess that I completely forgot it was holy week until this morning. The sun hadn't quite come up yet and I was already on my way to work. In lieu of morning radio (too perky dj's rambling on about I don't know what) I decided to listen to the silence for a while and spend some time in prayer. As I was praying through the day to come, I suddenly realized that it was Maundy Thursday. In the past, this has not meant very much to me. I grew up in the Baptist church and we only celebrated Good Friday and Easter. Maundy Thursday was something the Presbyterians did down at the other end of the block. It never made much sense to me, mostly because I couldn't see going to church Thursday night when you knew you would have to go back Friday and Sunday anyway. There was also the issue of the name, Maundy Thursday. What's a Maundy? No one seems to know. I have actually heard the definition a couple of times now, and have read it once, but it's nothing so significant that I actually ever remember it. So, what's the point? I asked myself that question this morning, and here's what I came up with.

Maundy Thursday is the calm before the storm. It is the last day of preparation before we walk down the road to the cross. It is the day where we commit ourselves to taking that journey with Jesus once more, even though we know it will be a painful process. More than that, it is the day we have to come together as people of God to strengthen and sustain each other for the journey. The image came to mind as I was driving of someone who has been diagnosed with a major illness. Before physical treatments begin, there is a time of mental preparation. Most people meet with those closest to them to discuss the upcoming journey, and to commit themselves to seeing it all the way through, regardless of the end result. This, I believe, is what Jesus was trying to do for his disciples. He was preparing them spiritually, not only for the journey to the cross, but for a life lived in service to the resurrected Lord. "Do this in remembrance of me," Jesus said, as he passed around the bread and the wine. For me, today, the message is not to just eat and drink in remembrance of Jesus, but in everything I do to try and remember the love Jesus so willingly gave, and to pass that along to those I meet along the way.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara