she's seventeen.

She sits down, pretending to be apathetic - or at least that's what I have to believe. I'm viewed as an upper-class 'adult' figure; she's seventeen and with her peers, so I'm not offended in the least. There's an ACT-prep packet in front of her which serves mostly as a bed for her cellphone, because "it don't make sense anyway".

She pulls open her borrowed laptop and sighs. I hand her the slip with the college website on it. I'm asked to help her apply online. She types in "youtube" instead and begins to search her favorite music artists. I laugh it off and tell her she must've mis-typed something. Then she types in "facebook". I begin to feel frustrated, she knows what she's supposed to do... she's seventeen.

The application page is full of blanks which we can't fill neatly. Parent/Guardian: _____________, Miss Chante*?, A Step-Mom?, An Uncle?. Parent E-mail:______________, "ain't got one". Address: ____________, "we movin'".

Harder still. Volunteer involvement in the past four years: _______________, does taking care of your child count?, how about siblings?. She has a child; she's seventeen. My heart begins to break. "Let's skip this section for now", I say.

Essay. "aw, hell no", she laughs. "Oh c'mon, this is my favorite part" I say, eager to help her embellish her strengths on paper. I offer to leave her alone and come back and help her edit.



I take a breath and begin praying that I don't say anything stupid or naive. I find her staring at the screen minutes later.

Almost ashamedly, she pushes the screen to angle my way. My breaking heart sinks to my stomach. It's all starting to make sense. Her first sentences read something like: "Some people say you got to follow your dream. And I agree with them. You got to keep tryin. I want to follow my dreams to be a nurse and help people deliver babys. I have the career goals and leading..." She's seventeen. No one has cared enough to teach her how to structure a sentence. She's been passed from grade to grade with just enough to graduate. She doesn't understand a lot of words and reading is very difficult.

Filling my lungs I lean away, honestly just wanting to apologize. I can't help but continuously think, 'she's seventeen'.

Instead I realize how beautiful this moment is; for no reason it seems... well, or every reason. She wants what I want. She deserves it just as much as I do. I thought we were so different. No. We're so the same.

For once I don't have answers or an apology. I find myself smiling, nodding, and saying "good, keep going" before I walk away to pull myself together.

change of pace

Yesterday my friend Rachel said, "You know Ashley, I was thinking, and you're a lot like Flash".

I laughed and entertained the thought of radiating lightning and wearing yellow gloves and boots for a moment. I couldn't deny the parallel; I am often there one minute and somewhere else the next. It takes a special kind of person to keep up and a special kind of circumstance to slow me down. I think fast, talk fast, and walk fast. Most of the time my mind, body, and heart are engaged and even multitasking.

Except on Sundays.

*sigh*. You feel that relief? I'm living it.

My favorite Sunday things the past few weeks:

reCREATING.

from book to journal:


from scrap-paper to a valentine:


from ingredients to breakfast:


LEARNING.

The art of baking:




LAUGHING

because as much as I try to hone my home-making skills, I can't say that Martha Stewart ain't got nothing on me. You see, this morning I broke TWO needles...


I think I require some sturdier equipment? :)

and LISTENING.

to the words of narratives by Flannery O'Connor, Alice Munro, and C.S. Lewis.
to the banter of Loralei and Rory Gilmore.
to music. (most recently that of Mat Kearney, Joshua Radin, Parachute, Ben Harper, Tyrone Wells, Matt Nathanson, and Jason Myles Goss- who you just might want to listen to below...)


A practice I thought could be irresponsible, has been restoring. More and more I am convinced that we were created for a six-and-one cycle. At least for this season in my life I will live in that freedom.

Spring Semester Surprises

Professor McDuffee is, and I quote, "the proprietor of a t-shirt shop in Katmandu" in his mind. He went on to explain that he takes his controversial opinions and loaded thoughts and puts them on a t-shirt inside his head - sometimes "selling" them, (again this is all within the boundary of his brain), to those who could benefit from their advertised truths. "They're not hurting any one's feelings" he shrugged. HAHA! I'm reminded, at least three times a week, how uniquely brilliant the people I get to learn from really are. If we're all a little crazy, this man is my kind of crazy.

My former professor, current employer, and dear respected mentor, Dr. Sauer, has cancer. This might seem like a stark transition from the previous light-hearted surprise; however he is anything but heavy in spirit. This may not have been this 64year-old man's prediction or wish, but he is unshaken and challengingly hopeful. As someone who has taken to calling me "Ann" and greeting me with: "Are you persevering, my child?", I am encouraged even in one of his weakest hours. I prayerfully look forward to the ways this will deepen his dependence and grow our relationship.

I get the opportunity to have a second interview for a 2011-2012 RA position. This has been an unexpectedly exciting process. The application and first interview have already challenged me to look into a metaphorical mirror. Who do people see me as vs who do I want to be? Who am I presently vs. who am I created to be? How do I react to circumstances X, Y, and Z vs. how should I react? What do I like? What makes me angry? Why do I bother? It has provoked some discovery and I'm hopeful of what's to come.

bugs, butts, and bathrooms

Young boys are funny things.

Ivan, for instance, has a bug phobia. His mind has tricked him into thinking that anything small and black is an ant, and anything small and white is a "mosk" - by which I assume he means moth. I guess he could mean mosque; but judging by the things he shrieks at, it would have to be (as Derek Zoolander put it) "AT LEAST THREE TIMES THE SIZE" for people to fit in!

Ethan is convinced the word "butt" is an obscenity. He is also convinced that screaming, writing, or casually slipping the word into every sentence will make him look cool or something. I'm just not the right person to correct this type of behavior. Call me childish, but try not to crack a smile when you overhear " I do like Magic School Butt, especially the one about Mrs. Frizzle-Butt in the body... Hey Ryan, pass me the butt - I mean red marker". I kid you not ladies and gentlemen!!

and then there's Myles. I haven't quite figured out yet if he's obsessed with the bathroom or with paper-towel. Either way he constantly asks if he can go wipe his hands. Now that I think of it, maybe he just has unusually sweaty hands? Sometimes I humor him and say yes, but I might have to start bringing a towel or planting trees.

a suggestion

http://matthew1316.blogspot.com/

Click it. Read it.
I dare you.

get to the point

I'm in a writing class this semester under a professor that I very much respect... but her class is kicking my butt a little bit.

I got to sit down with her one-on-one today and walk through the first paper I submitted. When I received it back I felt guilty - as though I owed her 13 cents - because I'm fairly certain an unfair amount of red ink was used on my paper. It was actually quite comical.

And call me a nerd, but I grew eager with the challenge. I love writing. I knew I wasn't great, but I had no idea how much room I have for improvement.

My greatest grammatical weaknesses: redundancy, vagueness, unnecessarily dramatic transitions, and adjective over-use. Today my professor took entire groups of sentences in my paper and summed them up in one noun or verb. It was beautiful to watch her do this.

Far be it from my expectations, it helped to emphasize what was supposed to be emphasized and maintained readability and creativity.

She says all I need is practice.

We both hope she's right :P.

another chapter

I'm teaching two Pre-K classes this semester at a Chinese Christian school. I'm learning more than I could've ever imagined.

Enter Friday's Super Scientists Class.

Bruce is four; he has the curiosity and energy to prove it.

He likes to know what everyone is doing, all of the time. Instead of sitting with his own project or experiment, he's typically found wandering from one peer to another until he's accounted for the where-abouts and what-abouts of the 11 other students. He likes to help, so it's not all bad.

Today there were three rotating stations. Bruce was very engaged in the first, but insisted on skipping the second - because the third looked more exciting. He didn't understand that the sequence was necessary to the learning process. He wouldn't be convinced that the rules were set up for his good. If only he would trust me and wait, something more and better than he was even imagining would come.

Kicking, flailing, and grunting I carried him to his seat. I tried to softly convince him of my reasoning. When that didn't work, I bribed him a little. And when that didn't phase him, I resorted to all out begging! It was as if he didn't hear me. Or perhaps it was that he was sure his way was best, and therefore deemed my input as untrustworthy and unnecessary.

The only time he would stay in his seat was if I were holding his hand, literally. He wasn't calm by any means, but he remained on the chair if he felt my hand and heard my voice. But having eleven other 'eager beavers' just doesn't allow for this sort of one-on-one attention consistently.

It was quite the scene. It resulted in spilt water and a mess of pepper. His experiment didn't work properly because his persistence to 'do it his way' proportioned the materials incorrectly. The sequence of unfortunate events continued as his clear disappointment turned into jealousy and frustration. Why didn't his experiment work? Did I (the teacher) mess his up on purpose!? And how did his shirt get wet and his table space full of black specs? At the end of the day all of the other kids had something to take home from the second station, but not Bruce.

Even in my frustration I empathized with my four year old friend.

I had to come to accept the fact that I have been in a similar mind-set, it just isn't as cute or excusable on me.

I'm found looking around and ahead as if I could wish my way into something else. I haven't lost joy or excitement in watching others be blessed, but I have been prone to jealousy - more than usual.

It's not that this "station" is bad or unpleasant; I just felt much more engaged in the last, and the next one looks a little more appealing from where I sit. I understand the concept of the 'big picture' and that this season of preparation is absolutely necessary; yet I'm found anxious in heart, mind, and body.

My selfishness wants to reach for control, wants to make a change just for the sake of change. Instead of listening, I'm frequently found trying to convince or bargain my way out of present circumstances.

Not-so-ironically, like Bruce, there are times I sit stupidly still as I feel the hand of the Teacher. I have moments where I am silently taken back by His attention, yet I am then quick to get distracted or squirm again.

Also like this four year old, I make a mess of things. I'm left frustrated and hurt by my own choosing; yet wanting to blame anything and anyone else.

It took me some time to see, and even more to admit. Now it's time for change. It's time I reconcile my attitude with the will of my Father. My heart is being refined, and I don't want to miss one beat. Again Philippians 2:13 is personified to and in me. It's time I look up instead of all around me, and time I kneel instead of run. I trust because my every need is met. I'm thirsty for wisdom and understanding. I feel the weight of the truths in Ecclesiastes;, learning to enjoy what I have and removing grief & anger from my heart, and pain from my body. I'm beginning to ache to live in light of Ephesians 5; imitating the Creator unconditionally and walking in His will.

I write today because my heart and mind are full. I write because I know my inconsistency needs an accountability restraint. and I write today in case you need to borrow my experience to let God speak to your heart.