Ringing in the New Year: On the Shoulders of Giants

2014 has been one of those years.

Ugh.

The optimist in me hates to write that sentence, because I know so many people who have had much
worse happen to them. I've never been superstitious, but I kind of want to use one hand to type and the other hand to knock on wood as I write it.

When I look at the battles I've fought this year, I recognize that they aren't huge. They aren't the same as the mother whose son is in the hospital fighting cancer.  They aren't the same as the little girl being abused. They aren't the same as the man who just lost his job, or the wife who just found out her husband has cheated on her.

My battles aren't even comparable.

But they are still battles, and while keeping a healthy perspective is good, we all need to take the time to think about what we've had to endure this year. Because those hardships define us, and even the small ones will likely shape our future.

My friend Amy spoke to me a couple months ago about battles, and ever since then, I haven't been able to get it out of my head.

You see, Amy's husband, Craig, is fighting cancer for a second time.

Awhile back, she told me that he was reading the book of Samuel in the Bible over and over again. Craig had told her that the story of David was speaking to him.

David: the man who would become the second most influential king of the Jews, whose very lineage would lead to Jesus.

David started off as an unknown child, powerless against the kings who ruled at the time, against the enemy army that constantly attacked his people. But when a giant mocked the opposing army and asked who would fight him, David felt God speak to his heart and knew he had to fight the battle before him. The men on his side tried to arm him with worldly things for protection, but David knew that he had to use his own particular gifts to defeat the enemy, and he knew that he had to glorify God in the process.

You could see how Craig could easily relate to the story.

Horrible cells inside of him continued to multiply even though he couldn't see them. Chemotherapy and radiation didn't work the first go-around.  And here he was, a father of two kids not even in school yet, a firefighter hero who couldn't stop microscopic cells.

What could make you feel more powerless than that?

Not much. But a weak child facing a massive army would be a contender.

And that weak child's actions in the face of battle is something we can all learn from.

Every other boy David's age must have been scared of the powerful army flanking the huge giant in front of them. But despite him likely sharing this fear, David found strength in the Lord.  He knew the Lord chose him - him, over anyone else - to fight a giant, Goliath.

God didn't cause the battle that was going on. He didn't tell the giant to taunt the army.

And He doesn't cause the evil that continues to plague us today.

But He equipped David with the tools he would need to defeat Goliath, and He equips us with the tools we need to defeat our battles, too.

He told David - so full of faults, a weak boy who grew into an imperfect man - to trust in Him, and He used his performance in battle to do amazing things.

Life-changing things.

Things like ruling a nation.  Things like fulfilling prophecy.  Things like creating a lineage for the only perfect man to ever walk this earth.

And all this happened to David because he chose to trust God through the battle and use the battle to bring glory and honor to the Lord.

Wow.


What's your battle?  It doesn't have be cancer, but we all have things that plague us.

Have you ever felt like David?  A no one?  Unworthy and weak?

The bad news is, we've all been David.

But here's the good news to go with that bad news:

We're all David. 

We are all treasured.  Deeply loved.  Favored.

Chosen.

And we often feel like we couldn't possibly fight the way God wants us to fight.

But, if we make the choice to honor God and do what He's calling us to do, we will fight, and we will win.

Maybe we won't win the battle like David did.  But we certainly win the war.  We glorify His name, introduce His love to others, and open their eyes to the Truth.


People have been doing this since the beginning of time, and they continue to do it today.  It's through those people - and the Bible - that I find the motivation to take on my own personal battles, and the inspiration to glorify and worship God through them.

Take, for instance, Tim Scott, the first African-American senator to be elected in the south since the Reconstruction. After his historic win this year, he tweeted:

My skin color is talked about often. Tonight I want to talk about it for just a moment. In South Carolina, in America, it takes a generation to go from having a grandfather who is picking cotton, to a grandson in Congress. We are thankful for those trailblazers who came before us and said the status quo was not enough. 

I stand on the shoulders of giants.

That's why we're here, folks: to look our scary stuff in the eye and know that our God is calling us to be greater than we think we are.

He is calling us to stand on the shoulders of the giants, those who have conquered things that once loomed over them.


Whatever you're committed to conquering this new year, whatever battles you want to fight and win against, fight with the assurance that you are God's and no one else's, because when you belong to Him, you can conquer any evil.

You can defeat any giant.

The Five Secrets to Leaving a Legacy

My grandma passed away a couple of weeks ago. Although she was 89 and "just a grandma", it felt much more tragic to my family and me than an ordinary passing.  Even though we knew her stage-four cancer was going to take her, could see her bony frame become more emaciated each week, could see her struggling for even the smallest breath of air... it still felt like punch to the gut when we found out.

And in the two weeks since her passing, I've been contemplating why.

Why does the death of an 89 year old woman feel so tragic somehow? Why do I feel as though the orbit of the planet has shifted?

It got me thinking about her, the amazing qualities she possessed, and what she contributed to everyone in this world.

And the inevitable follow-up questions were:

How do I live my life like her? 

How do I live in such a way that my death will feel like a tragedy, despite a hopeful old age and the possibility of failing health?

I could have come up with a hundred things Grandmom did to become such a legacy, because even the little things matter in a big way. But five, I know, she would want me to pass on. These five things are big ideas with an even bigger impact, things that we can all do to shift the orbit of other people's lives to give them a little more sunshine.

1) LOVE. Unapologetically and with a smile. Everyone, with no exceptions.

Greet family and strangers with a hug and a smile so wide that they can't help but smile back. 

Grandmom did this naturally. It didn't matter who was standing in front of her; they were always greeted the same way an old friend would be. I can still close my eyes and see her beaming broadly the first time she met my husband's parents, wrapping them in a hug so they knew they were not only welcome, but cherished. 

Her biological family benefited from her constant adoration, too. I always have been needy for affection (just ask my husband - ha!). As a child, I knew Grandmom's lap was always open and her arms would always be waiting for a hug.  I was borderline embarrassed about the amount of love she poured onto me until I noticed her lavishing my sisters and my cousins with the same attention, and then I was in awe of her. Who has the ability to show everyone that level of love? Even at a young age, she would show me a glimpse of Jesus every day by doing this. 

2) LAUGH. Allow yourself to be improper from time to time, and cherish the moment.

Good Lord, could Grandmom laugh.  She laughed at jokes, at memories, and even at herself.  Even as she struggled to breathe, she would laugh.  Two weeks before she died, my son was running circles around me. I made the comment that he was nothing like me (sarcastically, of course).  And she laughed.  It was followed with a cough that I'm sure was painful, but even in the darkness of her failing health, she chose laughter.

To her, laughter is what made life worth living. It was something even failing health couldn't take away.

3) EXPERIENCE. Value moments, not money. Value time, not treasures.

Granddad told us at Thanksgiving that he got Grandmom to marry him with the promise of a trip.  Their honeymoon lasted ten states and one month long.  For the rest of their lives, they traveled. They saw the magnificence that was God's creation.  They met people and expanded their family with each drive. Every year, they made it a point to go on vacation.  They weren't rich. In fact, they'd pack their food for the trip, and their family of four would all sleep in the pickup: my mother would sleep in the cab and my grandparents and uncle would sleep in the back on a mattress.

They didn't have much.  But they had the world.  And it's a gift God has given to all of us.

With Christmas coming up, it's easy to get caught up in the things.  We all have homes overflowing with toys, and all of them are things our children will outgrow. More importantly, if we're truly being honest with ourselves, they're all things that will spoil our children and their imagination, that will be yet another thing they receive without having the pride of earning it. Honor yourselves.  Invest in an experience, not an I-Pad.

4) SERVE OTHERS. Without expecting anything in return.

Grandmom was old school.  She loved taking care of her home, her husband, and her children. Later, she loved caring for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was a proud member of the PEO, a social organization that met regularly in the homes of their members. I loved watching Grandmom get to work when it was her turn to host. She would polish her silver and get out her cherished family heirlooms. When I was young, I thought she wanted to show off what she had, that these functions were a chance for her to gloat about her family's fine traditions. But when I was in high school, that changed.  I was helping her set out her china for a function. "Amanda," she told me, "I love anything with tradition. It's a reminder of who you are and your family's history. I feel like I've gotten the best from mine, and I want to share that with others."

She wanted to serve others.  She wanted to share her best. It was her language of love, and no one left her home without feeling that love.

Even with non-formal meals, she would do her best to create an amazing feast.  She'd set the table and always apologize for something - anything - not being up to standard.  As a teenager, I told her, "Grandmom, I'm in high school and usually eat at the cafeteria. I have no standards."

It didn't matter, though. She still thought I was worth her very best, and she never thought her efforts were good enough for me. Do you have any idea how valued that made me feel? That the most attention I was receiving from anyone wasn't even good enough in her eyes? I was rich with the spoils of her love.

What an amazing servant to my heart.  I am grateful.

5) KEEP THE PERSPECTIVE.

This life is tough.  I only told you about the good things that Grandmom experienced in this post, and honestly, that's all I'm going to do, because that's what she would want.  Not because she wanted to be perceived as being perfect, but she wanted to be happy regardless of her circumstance.

I saw Grandmom worried, and she would pray.

I saw Grandmom sad, and she would focus on what made her happy.

I saw Grandmom angry, and she would allow herself to be.  But then she'd get over it, and she'd do it quickly. She'd choose happy.

I saw Grandmom old, and she'd insist she never felt her age.

I saw Grandmom sick, and she would try and will herself to be healthy.

I saw Grandmom doubt life after this, and instead of letting those doubts consume her, she'd turn to her Bible, her devotions, and to us. She'd talk to Christians.  She'd ask for proof, and God would provide her with it.

My friend Kim calls it seeing life through different "perspectacles".  Grandmom did that.  Even when life told her she should be angry and bitter and sad and hopeless, she wasn't.  Her heavenly perspective told her to focus on the gifts, not the discrepancies. 

Grandmom did these five things, all day every day.  And because of that, she was magnetic.  Her personality drew people to her.  Her smile made their days brighter and her hugs and laughter made their hearts warmer. She's left this world, and all of us in it, in a better state because of her presence. 

Rest in peace, Grandmom.  And rest assured that I - among others - will strive to leave the same legacy you did.

Husker Football: What it Means to 'Non-Nebraskans'

I've been thinking a lot about Husker football.

Not Bo. Not Ameer. Not the celebrations of the year or the controversies of the week.

I've been contemplating the very idea of the scarlet and cream football team. I've tried to ignore the specific players and coaches and have really concentrated on what our state's pride and joy means to me - what it means to all 'Non-Nebraskans' who shudder at being called just that: a NON.

When I first moved to Colorado, I waited until the very last possible moment to change my license plates. The green-and-white mountains seemed so impersonal compared to the scene of the Nebraska sunset.  The lack of two numerical digits at the beginning of the plate particularly bothered me: I already felt lost among a sea of city dwellers; now my car was virtually indistinguishable from all of the rest as well. I mean, the horror! How will they know where I'm from?

While I've gotten used to living in Colorado, I have yet to give up and call myself Coloradan. The reason is simple:

I'm proud to be from Nebraska, and I don't want to lose that identity.

Which brings me back to Husker football.

People from other states just don't get it.  They are spoiled with the riches of multiple college and professional teams. Their populations are such that they can be divided in who they root for, in who their family supports.

But Nebraskans have never cared about being rich. And we certainly will never be divided. Our unicameral legislature is just one example of that.

In Nebraska, weddings are planned so they don't coincide with game day. There is a genuine and valid fear that your wedding either won't be attended, or that it will be attended with the pastor pausing the ceremony to ask someone in the crowd - armed with a phone and 4G - what the score of the game is. And if the wedding happens to take place hours after a loss? Well, talk about a mood killer.

In Nebraska, over 90% of Lincoln's population wears Husker gear on game day.  It's not a scientific study, but one based on the power of observation: see if you can leave Lincoln on a Saturday night in the fall without literally seeing red.

In Nebraska, little boys pretend to be Husker football players every day on the playground at recess.  It's not surprising to find second graders capable of rattling off the vast majority of Husker starters and to even throw in some stats.

In Nebraska, everyone has a great understanding of the game and an opinion to go with it.  It both annoys and impresses me during game time.

In Nebraska, we haven't won a National Championship for almost two decades, but you wouldn't know it.

Because in Nebraska, the farmer mentality is to remain loyal in the hard times, to sometimes shake your head in disbelief, but say, "There's always next year."

For me, that's the reason why I have such a hard time being a 'Non-Nebraskan'.  It's because Husker football and Nebraska culture are so intertwined that I feel like a traitor, switching teams by admitting I live in another state.


This past weekend, I got to go to my first writer's conference here in Denver.  I met with a literary agent who asked me where I was from.

"Denver," I replied.  "But I'm originally from Nebraska."

There was no reason to say it, but there it was, pouring out of me like an excuse of some kind.

"No way!" she replied.  "My parents are, too." She nodded to her phone. "I just checked the score. We're ahead."

And thus began a conversation that lasted five minutes into my ten minute pitch session.  Will I ever be represented by her? Probably not. I mean, c'mon, I barely had time to tell her about my book.  But did it matter to me?

Weirdly, no.

Not because Husker football is more important to me, but because what Husker football represents is.

It's the comradery a person in California experiences when he pulls up next to a car who has a Husker bumper-sticker, and the disappointment he feels when he can't get the person's attention to show them his own.

It's the way you can go to a "Husker Bar" in virtually any state to cheer alongside fans.

It's the way you can spy a Nebraska shirt halfway across a store in another state, compliment the person for their choice in hoodie, and strike up a conversation based on where they or their family members are from.

It's the way you can meet another person with ties to a state you love, to a team you've grown up watching, and immediately feel as though you've found a friend.


Today - and the rest of all Saturdays - I know there will be celebrations.  There will be controversy.  There will be incredible wins and agonizing loses.  There will be opinions about coaches and players and comments and plays.

But today - and the rest of all Saturdays - there will remain something larger than a game.

It's the dream we had as children, combined with the passion we have as adults.  It's the pride and the love and the friendliness and the perseverance that gives a platform to Husker Football.

And it's the thing that all Nebraskans-at-heart (even the 'nons') can bank on to get them through another week.

It's the true meaning of Husker football.

GBR.

Kim and Miley, Meet Pure Dixie

Kim Kardashian. 

I look at her, and my jaw drops.  She is stunning in the way that I imagine Helen of Troy to be.  My hair will never shine like hers, and I will never be able to perfect a sultry stare under lengthy lashes.  Having children of my own, I can’t believe how amazing her body is after carrying a child just over a year ago.  Her style is inspirational for women who love fashion, and at the very least it catches the eye of people like me, who have no fashion sense whatsoever.

She is a beautiful woman.  Just gorgeous.

And despite really, really, trying not to like her at all, there are quite a few reasons why I admire Miley Cyrus as well.

I mean, come on. The girl shaved half of her hair off and still looks feminine. How is that even possible? She was thrust into the limelight at such a crazy, young, insecure age, and she tried for years to hide her adolescent mistakes in order to be what people wanted to her to be. And through it all, she built an empire: a business that went far beyond her musical talent.  When she sings – especially with no help from machines, foam fingers, or giant teddy bears – she makes me listen with my ears and my heart.  She has a strong, throaty voice that drips with emotion, and emotion is the reason we all listen to music, anyway.

She is so incredibly talented.  What a gift God has given her.

By society's standards, these two women are successful, and I can see why.

But I wish they could see beyond our world's definition of success. I wish they could see past the temporary highs and beyond the idolatry of money. I wish they would use their gifts in such a way that we want to worship our God for creating people like them, for giving us just a glimpse of the beauty and talent that He possesses whenever we revel in their beauty and talent.

But my heart breaks because the rare beauty in them is being masked by their brokenness.

Kim Kardashian recognizes that her beauty and physique are her brand. Desperate to push that brand forward, she posed nude for all to see. But Kim Kardashian, your body is more than beautiful.

It is sacred.

I just wish you knew that.

Miley Cyrus knows she’s talented, so she has surrounded herself with people who will only tell her how perfect she is, ones who will allow her to do tragic things and even give her a pat on the back for it.

But Miley Cyrus, those drugs will ruin you. And they’re ruining the lives of the countless young women who once looked up to you.  It’s easy for you to promote drug use because you have the money to spend on them. You work in an industry that embraces them. 

The millions of young men and women who listen to your music and idolize you don't. For them, drug use will make them lose their jobs. It will make them broke. It will make them addicts, without the luxury of a vacation that is also a rehab center.

People like Kim and Miley make it hard for young minds to differentiate between right and wrong, and, truth be told, it’s changed my views as well.

Because of these women, I’m beginning to hate feminism, and I’m female.

I almost hope we can no longer push the envelope of creativity, and I’m a writer.

I’m loathing the fact that we always seem to pursue happiness, and I am an extremely happy person.

I am sick and tired of all of these things, and I was once a passionate pursuer of them all.

I’m sick of those things because of the tragedies that accompany them. This current generation - and I'm talking about my own - wants all of life's luxuries without having to work for them, and they hope that those material things will make them happy. The era of social media has shown that young women are promoting themselves in the same way as Kim and Miley, despite having no celebrity status.  It has become blatantly obvious – to me, anyway – that a vast majority of young people are so narcissistic that they cannot even fathom finding fulfillment in anything but their own wants and desires, and our culture is saying that’s okay.  

It’s a sad thing, what our world has become, what world we are leaving to our children.

But I don’t think all hope is lost.

What our young women need are strong role models.  And while I can’t control what trash the television spews out, I can control the conversations I have with my daughter about these women. I can recognize both the beauty and the flaws of those celebrities. But even better, I can compare the beauty of those women to the beauty of others.

I’m lucky. I have a lot of friends and family members in my life who are truly beautiful, who I can use for examples when my daughter asks. But I'll tell you about just one.

I have a best friend that most of you would love to hate.

In fact, I’d love to hate her.

But I can’t.  

I would love to hate my best friend because she is good at almost everything.

Think I’m exaggerating? I’m not.  For one, she owns her own successful business: Pure Dixie (Cowboy Couture). She designs and produces one-of-a-kind, handmade accessories out of leather. Yes, I may be shamelessly promoting her business, but in order for you to really get an idea of her talent, take a look at some of her stuff:

Beautiful, isn't it?  Even if you’re not country at all, you have to admire her artistic ability, the fact that almost every single thing she creates is one-of-a-kind and is produced with perfect results.

You want to know something even more disgustingly awesome?

That’s her.  The beautiful woman who is modeling her belts and purses is her.

She is stunning. Believe me, for four years I lived with her and had to compare myself to her as we got ready in the morning. It wasn't an easy thing to do, trust me.

But do you want to know how I did it, how I was able to live with her and not succumb to jealousy or pity parties?

I did it because of her. 

She – amidst all of her beauty – would tell me how beautiful I was.  She – as smart as she was – would tell me I was intelligent.  She was artistic and athletic and would nurture these abilities in me as well, always congratulating and pushing me and believing in me.

What my best friend did for me - what she continues to do - is what is lacking in this world.

She has used her talents, her beauty, and her intelligence to empower others. She will be the first to tell you that she's made mistakes, but also the first to tell you that - by the grace of God - she's forgiven. She has always and will always give glory to God and to everyone but herself.  And she will always point out the good in others without noting the good in herself.

And she does this because she sees more than herself when she looks in the mirror.  She constantly strives to see a reflection of a servant, sent here to wash people’s feet the same way Jesus washed the feet of the disciples.

That's the kind of businesswoman I want my daughter to learn from, the kind of beauty that should truly be admired.

When my daughter notes that Kim Kardashian (or whoever the sensation of her generation will be) is beautiful, I’ll agree. And then I’ll ask my daughter a few questions about the star. What do you think she values most about herself? Is it something that is guaranteed to last? No? Then how do you think that affects her confidence? Her love for herself? I will point out to my daughter how others – like my best friend – have always put more effort into becoming more beautiful on the inside than on the outside because they know that those things matter.

When she asks why the Miley Cyrus of her generation wants to sing about getting high, I'll ask her to think about what it is that the young star is trying to escape from. If she points out the money that young starlet has, I will point out that God has the ability to gift us with worldly possessions, but that the true blessings he has for us are not of this world.

This is how my best friend lives, and I'm thankful I can use her as an example for my child.

I'm thankful there are a lot of beautiful, intelligent, honorable, creative, talented, and kind women out there. And I need to make sure that I point my children toward them while the rest of the world points them to women like Kim and Miley.

What kind of message will you send your children?

Will you teach them to be a servant to others? Or a slave to this world?

Will you teach them to embrace the “feminists” of our time who pursue ungodly things, or the true pioneers of feminism, like Susan B. Anthony and Margaret Thatcher?

Will you teach them to create so their talents will receive accolades, or will you show them the true joy of giving the glory to God?

Humans in general, we need to take a true selfie.  Look in the mirror.  And don’t make it a duck face, or a surprised gasp, or a glance down and to the left to hide the shameless self-promotion.  Look in the mirror and ask what you are doing to help others, to give the glory to everyone but yourself.

And when you do that, you will see what true beauty really is.

It'll look a lot like my friend, Pure Dixie.

The Glory of Gratitude

Days like Veteran's Day are my favorite.  They are days of reflection, days where you actually take the time from your busy life to appreciate everything that causes you to rush. They are days where we can appreciate all we have even amidst the chaos and the stress.

Waking up early to a baby? Wow! What a gift babies are! Taking a shower in the morning before work? Can you believe that we are spoiled enough to have hot water so readily available?  Stuck in traffic?  I can't believe we have the luxury of automobiles.  Too busy at work to eat lunch?  How great it is that we have jobs and food readily available!  And even if we don't have one or more of the things listed above, it's incredible that we live in a country where we can get the help we need when we are lacking.

Veteran's Day. It's a day to honor the men and women who fought with glory, and it's held in the month where we live in gratitude. I wish we could live all days like we live today.

The men and women who have fought or died for our freedom for two and a half centuries deserve so much more than twenty-four hours.  They deserve more than their meager pay, more even than all of the blessings I've listed above.  But when I've spoken to veterans, what they've appreciated most is this:

A thank you.

So I decided to write about the things in life I am thankful for: things that I wouldn't have if it wasn't for the sacrifice of so many brave souls.  The crazy thing about thankfulness is this: Once you start thinking about all of the ways you are fortunate, your gratitude can't seem to stop. So I apologize if you think I'm being to grandiose in my gratitude, but truly, I'm not exaggerating.

I'm blessed.

I love my son.  So much, in such a different way than I love my daughter.  I love his dimpled knuckles, his rubber band wrists, the way his eyelashes spill over the top of his cheek ones when he sleeps.  As a baby, I loved it when he continuously paused when nursing and smiled up at me, as if to say, “Thanks, Mom!” 

Makes me want to kiss his cheeks off.

I love my daughter’s kind and caring soul. She wants everyone around her to be happy.  Her ideal day would consist of someone holding her hand wherever she walked and hugging her whenever they could.  She is smart and funny, a combination that always keeps us on our toes.  She is in love with love. She gasps at Cinderella in her wedding dress and dances with her stuffed animals as Cinderella dances with her prince on the TV.  Her heart is so genuine and caring.  She’s only three, and at times her age and the drama that goes with it makes me want to scream, but the purity of her heart is unparalleled, and I wish I could be more like her.

I am so thankful to have my babies: at different times, they are a reflection of my husband, of me, of our other family members.  I am so thankful God gave us them to give us a taste of how much He loves us.

I am thankful for a warm home filled with things that comfort my soul when I want to rest.  Sure, part of it looks like a daycare.  But that’s okay.  Those toys bring comfort to my kids’ soul the same way that thick blanket slung over the couch brings comfort to mine.

I am thankful for my health and for the health of my family.  Too many people I love lately have been sick.  Too many. And I can only thank God that He gave us souls to not only make our bodies fight harder against sickness, but to triumph over the sickness in the end.

One of those sick people is my grandma. And it's hard to see her health failing.  It's hard to see her prepare to leave this world, because she's so much more to me than "just" a grandma.  Last year around this time, my husband and I got to go on a double date with my grandparents.  About halfway through the meal I reveled at the fact that somewhere along the way, I didn't just respect and love them like one is supposed to love his or her grandparents. I’d grown to truly love their companionship.  

They – at 89 and 93 – are my husband’s and my close friends.  I’d choose to spend time with them over almost anyone else.  And these people held me as an infant and saw me through my worst tantrums and awkward stages.  Amazing.

I am grateful for my friends, who I've collected into my own selective family over the years.  My closest friends are such amazing servants of God.  They love me, give me grace, at times even stumble with me, but they always push me to be a better reflection of Christ.  I am proud of them and what each unique person is, and I always try to be more like them, a better servant to God and less of a slave to the world.

There are so, so many other things for me to be thankful for: my faith, my husband, my relationship with Christ, my job, my other family members, my things, my students, my freedom, my…, my…, my… 

Both the most wonderful thing about days like today is the certainty that those can be written about another day.  I have the safety and security to know that those things will be there tomorrow and the next day. Amazing.  So many people don't.

Veterans, thank you.  Thank you.  Your love for our country - your love for us - is phenomenal.  Thank you for giving me all of the gifts I listed above and the freedom it takes to write about it. 

Thank you for sacrificing so I can relish the simple things and have too many blessings to write about in one day.

Make No Mistake!

Make no mistake, dear little boy,
I know that school can be hard.
You're told to sit still, to soak learning in,
To be quiet and just do your part.

"Make no mistake!" you're constantly told
By a teacher who wants you to learn.
But learning, dear boy, is made by mistakes,
Learning is not something earned.

When you started to walk, you fell the first time,
But you constantly tried your best.
And you tried through action, encouragement, and fun;
And that made you human, dear boy, not a pest.

Since the start of mankind, little boys have learned
By doing, by working, by tasks.
It's not your fault you wiggle and move,
I know you want to do what they ask.

But dear little boy, know this is true,
About you, and others as well:
You can't give up on learning in school,
'Cause God's plans for you are too big to fail.

Remember to be kind, and always show respect,
These things are what will make you a man.
But, dear one, you should never expect
To sit idly and learn a way that you can't.

Try your hardest; get to know your own amazing brain.
Think, How can I learn this stuff best?
Could I write standing up, or read lying down?
Could I act out the story in my head?

Could I write down my questions and seek all their answers?
Could I take certain things apart?
Could I see how they work and find answers why?

Could I really discover... I'm smart?

Yes, you could, little boy! Just think of who made you.
And if there's one thing I know, it's this:
The God who made everything your eyes can take in,
He made you to be a success.

He knows you can learn; He knows that you're smart.
And He knows there's a lot at stake.
So, dear little boy, just think of who made you,
And know that God, well:

 He makes no mistakes.

My Sweet Baby Girl

Enough

My Sweet Baby Girl, my cherished, beloved,

How I prayed God would send me you,

The first time I met you, I knew I had found
A love that's relentless and true.

The night you were born, 

I held you to my heart.

I couldn't stop staring;

You were perfect, every part.

Your light brown lashes spilled

Over the top of your cheeks.

Your lips smacked and puckered

And your blue eyes only peeked

At this new world around you,

Which must have been so strange.

But now you're part of it,

Becoming more so, as you age.

My baby girl, you're almost a woman,

Getting attention from young men.

We knew this day was coming,

We just wish we could dictate when.

And I've failed you  horribly, sweet daughter,

I realized this last night.

I've asked God to forgive me,

And I also ask that you might.

You see, last night, I watched you

Prepare excitedly for your date.

I saw your anticipation in getting ready,
And I feared you'd come home late.

I saw you in front of the mirror,
Assessing how you looked,
Trying so hard to be what he wanted,
Your knowledge gained from magazines, movies, and books.

Your eyelashes were extended,
Heavy, dark, and fake.
Your lips were colored, full, and plump,
You looked stunning, and my heart ached.

I realized in that moment,
That you'd become what I had prepped.
You see, since you were little,
"You're beautiful," is what I said.

"So smart, and funny, and charming!
I love how kind you are!"
I gave you compliments and put-ups
To try to show how loved you are.

And while all those things are so, so true,
Now you want those things to be said by men.
And while those compliments are extremely nice,
They don't matter at all, in the end.

What I should have constantly told you,
In the beginning, since before you could talk,
Was that you, my beautiful gift from God,
Are made to be enough.

No matter how pretty God made you,
No matter the brains in your head,
No matter the talents and treasures you have,
Know you can't earn a love, instead.

Try your best to be like him Him,
Not the men that you will meet.
Not the friends that come and go in your life,
Not even the person above your feet.

Baby Girl, you were made in His image,
So that means that you have beauty throughout,
But one thing I want to make sure you know
Is that you can do without

All that stuff that I've always told you.
It was said without thought, off the cuff.
Don't try to be want the world thinks it wants,
Because, sweet baby girl, you're enough.

You're enough, right now, to deserve a love
That will sweep you off your feet.
No amount of makeup, or actions, or thought
Can make that kind of love more sweet.

Because the love that you are seeking,
When you find it, will be a reflection of Him.
It will be compassionate, kind, and patient,
Full of passion and humor, contentment and whim.

Nothing you do and no way you act
Will make your true love, love you less.
Your beauty and humor and charm and your brain:
If you lost them, it'd make you no less

Of a person who deserves everything:
All the treasures that I can think of.
But, my sweet baby girl, you can't earn all those things,
And I hope you won't want to...

Because you're enough.

'All-These-Mothers' and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

The baby woke up with poop in his pants and now there’s poop on my hand and while trying to clean the poop off at the sink, I stepped on a Lego and screamed out loud, and that made my big kid wake up, and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At breakfast the baby got frosted Cheerios from his breakfast cereal box, and the big kid got marshmallows from her breakfast cereal box, but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was extra fiber.

I think I’ll move to Australia.

In the car on the way to work, a traffic light wasn't working and I had to wait to turn.  A policeman came and let the cars moving the other directions go, but not me. 

I said I was being cheated. I yelled that I was being jipped.  I hollered, “If you don’t let me go through this light right now, I’m going to be late!” 

No one even answered.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

At work, I liked Deb’s assignment better than mine.

During office time, my computer froze.  During conference time, my phone was too loud.  During break time, I didn't have time to pee.  WHO DOESN'T HAVE TIME TO PEE?

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I could tell because my outfit wasn't the best trend anymore.  Diane's was obviously the first best trend and Kate had the second best trend and I wasn't even the third best trend.

“I need to put you on a rack,” I muttered to my disheveled blouse. “I hope when I drop you off at Goodwill, someone buys you and takes you all the way to Australia.”

At lunch time, there were two cupcakes in Diane’s lunch box, and a gourmet chocolate bar in Kate’s lunch box, and Emily brought a cinnamon roll with caramel dripping on top.

Guess who decided they were too fat for dessert?

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

That’s what it was, because after work I went to the doctor’s office for a flu shot and it really hurt. “Come back next year and it might not hurt as bad,” the nurse said.

“Next year,” I said, “I’m moving to Australia.”

As soon as I got home I had to sprint from the front door to keep my kids from fighting and after breaking up the fight, the baby was still crying because he was shoved and my big kid was crying too because she was misunderstood and my babysitter was waiting to get paid and

While I went to the office to grab my checkbook my baby fell off a stool and my big kid drew on the wall and I tried desperately to call my husband to see when he was coming home…

But I think I called Australia.

My husband doesn't want to pick up the phone anymore.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There were skinny jeans that needed ironed and I hate skinnies. (and ironing).

There was kissing on TV, and

*sigh*

I miss kissing.

During my bath time, the kids snuck in.  During read-aloud time, I got peed on and had to shower again. And because my other pajamas got peed on, I had to wear my holey, stained pajamas.

I hate my holey, stained pajamas.

When I went to bed, my kids squeezed in and took the pillow I wanted to use. I had to get up because a nightlight burned out and my big kid bit her tongue.

The cat doesn't want to sleep on the couch. She wants to sleep on me.

It’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My husband says some days are like that.

Even in Australia.

:)

Four things, friends: 

1) "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” by Judith Viorst is my all-time favorite children’s book.  I remember my mother reading it to me, and I love reading it to my kids.  There’s something so satisfying about the relentlessly grumpy voice of Alexander. I've almost come to regard him as an alter-ego.

2) Also, my husband really is from Australia, but he denies wishing I wouldn't call anymore. At least publicly.

3) Lastly, this classic book is now a movie.  Share this post, then read the book, go see the movie, and pass the classics along! 

4) Even though some days are like that, I wouldn't trade my babies for the world. The snuggles outweigh the sniffles, and the affection outweighs the fits.  Some days are trying, but most of the time I feel like one of the luckiest women in the world. 

And on the days I don't, I read my alter-ego's book. In my grumpiest voice.  While eating chocolate. :)

Dreamin' for a Decade

You guys.

I've been living in a city for nine years.

Nine years.

In 2005, I moved to Denver to chase my then-boyfriend (now-husband), who was finishing up college in the city.  I'd only ever lived in towns with a population under five thousand, and I convinced myself that the move was a temporary thing.  I'd grown sick of a long-distance relationship and wanted to be near my guy, so I moved.

Temporarily.

Nine years ago.

The other day, I was assessing our house and what all needed to be done. I paused at the door to our master bedroom and took in the sad sight before me: the bed without a headboard, nightstands made out of Walmart plastic, the bare walls.  I'd never allowed myself to buy furniture for the room because I convinced myself we'd be moving as soon as we bought the furniture to suit it.

In the nine years I'd lived here, I'd never really allowed myself to settle in.

My brain has always known I was staying, that there was no reason to leave. I have a great job and my husband does, too.  The city we live in is only a couple of hours from my hometown, so it's a simple trip to see my family. My brain has told me for the last nine years that we have had every logical reason to stay.

But in the nine years since I made the decision to "temporarily" move, my brain failed to send that message to my heart.

Despite the changing circumstances, the job offers, the house purchase, the kids - despite everything - my heart isn't here.  At least not all of it.

Part of it is at home, on a quiet dirt road adjacent to whispering summer wheat. It's at a county fair where warm 'hellos' are exchanged, even though we see one another often. It knows everyone in the paper, whether it's in the obituary, the sports page, or the courthouse notes.  It's amidst big time support for small town teams, with the whole town watching on Friday nights.

And I'm starting to wonder if it always will be.

I've gotten used to life here in the city.  The anonymity is nice, especially if you're fond of running to the store in stained sweatpants without combing your hair.  (Not that I do that or anything.) I love grocery shopping after the kids go to bed and truly appreciate having more of a choice in everything, from where I shop to where I send my kids to school.

The city has its perks, but has yet to make my heart beat sporadically the way it does when riding horseback surrounded by hills.

I lament about this often, mostly because I'm spoiled and have little to complain about.  I procrastinate finding a niche anywhere, thinking that I better not grow too close to friends or create my own handpicked family, because I'll just end up having to leave them when my dream comes true and we move to a smaller town.

When my dream comes true.

And while waiting for my dream to come true, almost a decade has passed.

Nine years of friendships that I kept at an arm's distance.  Nine years of not making my neighborhood a reflection of my small town with big waves and just-because cookies.  Nine years of making plans for the future, which is still as far away as it has ever been.

And, recalling my barren bedroom, nine years of not wanting to make my house a home.

This got me thinking about the purpose of dreams.  They drive us and revive us. They are food for our soul, and at times, they're all that keep us going when everything is going wrong.

We see our dreams as doorways to our final destination, one of treasure and joy.

But what happens when the dreams are deadlocks to doors that are holding us in?  Holding us back?

How many times do we tell ourselves that someday, when circumstances are different, that's when we can be who we were meant to be, or that's when we can reach out to others?

Someday, when our dreams come true and we make more money, we will give more.

Someday, when our dreams come true and we have more time, we will volunteer and help others.

Someday, when our dreams come true, and the circumstances of life suit us better, we will be the person we want to be.

Someday I will be a blessing, but only when I get my blessing first.

Someday.

In the meantime, we live day-by-day, as if the time we have on this earth is endless and the people we share it with can be put on hold.

I've spent almost a decade here.  Almost all of my major, life-changing events have happened here. And yet here I am, unwilling to give back the blessings that I've received.  Here I am, unwilling to be God's servant - God's blessing - now.

Someday can mean a lot of things, people.  Tomorrow.  A year from now.

A decade or so.

Or, for some people, never.

We're given one shot at life, and while we should never lose sight of our dreams, we need to balance it with the now.

Because right now I have two neighbors on my street who just lost their husbands and can't stand the thought of cooking supper for just themselves.

Right now I see the same hurried and worried mom every morning, rushing to get her baby to preschool on time, fearing condescending remarks from teachers and other parents.

Right now I come into contact with around thirty strangers a day, thirty strangers with their own celebrations and struggles.

And right now, I have celebrations and struggles of my own.

Imagine what could happen if I - and if all of you, too - decided to keep our desires where they belong: in our dreams.  Imagine if the only time we made those dreams a priority was during prayer and reflection.

Imagine what would happen if we made a point to make the present a priority.

Imagine if we had no plans that put our good intentions on hold.

I, for one, am going to keep dreaming. I'll pray that God can use those dreams to whisper to my heart.

But I'm going to stop making them the roadblocks to being the person God intended me to be.

Because I'm here now: for a reason, for a purpose.  And I was not created to covet my own desires rather than God's desire for me.

After all, His plans will fulfill my desires much more than my own dreams ever will.

Christianity is the Problem

World, we have a lot of problems.

Sometimes I feel like an eighty year old watching the VMAs for the first time, shaking my head at the vulgarity, the cynicism, the anger that I see unfolding before me. 

But it's not because I'm watching Miley Cyrus twerk, and it's not because I'm analyzing fashion on the red carpet. (Although that always solicits the same response from me.) It's not because I'm exposing myself to only mainstream media, or an entertainment industry that is borderline pornographic. 

It's because I'm having conversations with Christians.

Christians, people.

The very ones who are supposed to engage themselves in a life-long endeavor of reflecting nothing but goodness, the perfection that was God's son.

These are the people who, lately, I have found to be the most hostile.

I'm not one to shy away from controversial topics.  It's not in my nature. The day before yesterday, I posted a blog, calling out all fellow conservatives for the way they were behaving.  Today, I'm doing the same thing to Christians. 

Because of the way a lot of them acted yesterday.

Yesterday, I engaged in quite a few conversations with people who had never been teachers before. I told them my opinions were based on years experience in the classroom, that I was an effective educator and had two degrees I earned studying the craft. Although some amazing leaders paused to reevaluate their own line of thinking and valued my insight, a few scoffed at me, belittled my experience, and even said I was saying what I was because I had an "inflated view of my worth" and was "self-entitled".

And if they weren't audacious enough to say those words, some oozed the same sentiment with the demeaning tone they used.

Wow.  Just, wow.

In a private conversation, I'd asked one of them what his own belief was. I thought it was a fair question to ask, since I had laid all of my values out on the table for him to feast on. He told me he was a Christian.

I'm sure he is.  I'm not judging him, saying he's not one simply because he wasn't acting like one.  Lord knows I've made mistakes. I fail Him all the time because I act un-Christlike.

But the problem I'm calling him out on - every Christian, for that matter - is the fact that he thinks his acts and tone he exhibited yesterday are justified.

He truly believes that he can continue to judge others because God judges.  He truly believes that he can admonish others for thinking differently. After all, he accepted Christ as his savior, so wouldn't he be held in a higher regard than others?

No, Christian.

That point of view makes you like the Pharisees.  The very people responsible for the crucifixion and death of Jesus.

You are special and incredibly loved, but your worth is no more than a non-Christian.

My pastor touched on this topic a couple of months ago. You can watch that sermon here if you want.  In that sermon, he informed me that the word "Christian" is used only a few times in the Bible, and each time it's used, it's condemning the judgmental Christians who think highly of themselves compared to those who haven't accepted Christ.

My pastor told me, "Christ doesn't call us to be Christians.  He calls us to be disciples."

Um. A disciple? A dead guy, the ones from the Bible?  But I can't be them.  That's the name Jesus gave them, right?  Aren't they some special group that's exclusive?

No, they aren't.  And being one of them isn't a horribly lofty goal, either.

Look at the twelve men that Jesus chose to be in his inner circle.  (Outside of the twelve men, his inner circle included women, too, which was extremely radical at the time he lived.)

Those people questioned. (Thomas)

Those people betrayed. (Judas)

Those people were even accused of letting evil dictate their questions and acts. (Peter)

 

I could go on.

The disciples weren't perfect, and neither are we. 

But they loved Christ.  Immensely, intensely, with all that they had. In the end, every disciple but Judas and John was martyred for their beliefs. They were so insane - crazy in love with Christ - that they died horrific deaths to make sure that everyone could know him intimately. 

They're the reason we all can know him intimately today.

Not the Pharisees. Not the Christians. 

The disciples.

I know that we have a job here on this Earth, and it's not to amicably go along with a culture of degradation and evil intent. We need to stand up against those things.

But when we do, we have to ask ourselves how Jesus would do it, because we are called to be reflections of Him.

Did Jesus admonish sinners and refuse to listen to their points of view? Did He use belittling sarcasm to make his points, or did He use insightful questions and parables to get His points across?  Didn't He listen patiently and pose questions to make them rethink their stances on several topics? 

Did He separate Himself from their company, or did He love them through their messes?

What are you doing, Christian?

Being a Christian - a disciple - doesn't mean you read from your Bible and devotionals. It helps, don't get me wrong. You grow in your relationship, the same way a husband and wife grow in theirs when they spend time together. 

It doesn't mean you allot two hours of your day to studying the Bible and spend the rest of the day admonishing the world.  

Being a Christian doesn't mean you refuse to listen to popular music or watch television, or condemn those that do.

Being a Christian - the disciple that Jesus yearns for us to be - means making it your life's quest to be a reflection of Him. And that means showing His fruits, to each and every person at all times.

Galatians 5:22-23

²² But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³ gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

In all things, show love.  In all things, spread joy.  Aim for peace and forbearance.  Even in strife, show kindness, gentleness, and goodness, and even when you're persecuted, show self-control and have faith that everything will be okay.

Because the stakes are high, people.  We are presenting our youth with two choices: be accepted for your sin and engage in narcissism, or become followers of something that seems restrictive and condescending.

Those choices aren't good enough.  We need to share with them the inexplicable joy that is knowing Christ. Sure, we can do this through facts and knowledge and a deep study of history, but first - always first- we need to show them Christ. And we can only do that by being the best reflection of Him we can be.

We will always have different views and dissent in this world.  It's the curse of living in it.  It won't always be this way, though.

So Christians, we need to recognize the problem, and the problem is us.

Evil will always exist, but the way we've come to handle our exposure to it cannot continue to.

Because evil is tricky. It masks itself with good intentions, but ill-enforced acts.

We need to do a better job being a reflection of Christ's love.  Quit judging.  Stop with the righteousness.

Be a disciple.

Fix the problem that is Christianity.

Stay the Heck Out of my Classroom

If you haven't heard what's going on in one of our nation's largest school districts, you might want to start paying attention. In Jefferson County, Colorado, a storm is brewing, and it's a microcosm of the hurricane swallowing America. It's divisive at its core, and it's plotting neighbor against neighbor, teachers against parents, and - surprise, surprise - conservatives vs. liberals.

Disclaimer: I am a traditionalist, conservative through and through. I am also a teacher. I am around people of all ideologues every day, and I am privy to information that some people don't have since I have a front seat to this three-ringed circus. I am a walking contradiction to some, voting almost strictly Republican or Libertarian, but also a member of a teacher's union.

I have heard both sides, and I am troubled.

You see, last year, Jefferson County voted on a new school board majority. This was hardly headline news, but it ended up being transformative for the state's largest (the nation's 32nd largest) school district.

But is the transformation good or bad?

Well, in the field of education reform, it's troubling, to say the least.

The board majority ran on the basis that they were conservative. Many far-left leaning articles love to remind their readers of this. But I am here to argue that they are not conservative. They are not liberal.

They are politicians.

They are trying to lead the way in reforming education, and I truly believe they think they are doing what is right for kids.  The problem is that none of the board majority has spent time as an educator, and it is pretty obvious that they are not ones to trust educators' opinions.

Is this warranted? I could see where they might think so. I have seen bad teachers remain in highly-paid positions because of a flawed payment system. I have read about unions flexing their political and monetary muscles to ensure that ineffective (sometimes even abusive) teachers remain employed. I have heard about skewed benefits and early retirements. I have seen documentaries showcasing lazy teachers who read newspapers during class and let their students do whatever they want.

But unlike the board majority, I recognize that what I listed above - although it's horrible - seldom happens. It is sensationalized, much like most of what we read or watch in the media.

I know this because I have been in education for almost a decade. I have been in classrooms in three different states, across all socioeconomic statuses and geo-political boundaries.

I know that teachers are good people. They didn't enter the field for money or notoriety. They didn't become teachers because of some alpha-ego complex and weren't thinking of their early retirement at the ripe age of 22. They had no plans to infiltrate the education system and promote a nationalist agenda like the Nazis.

They became teachers because they wanted to help the kids they love learn. 

There's no other explanation for them doing what they do.

Day in and day out, they adhere to the needs of 25-30 students, and they make sure they are meeting the needs and expectations of their students' parents as well.

They study curriculum and plan activities to ensure all children learn the way they are biologically wired to learn.

They make sure your children are safe from all this ill-intended world has to inflict upon them, with no regard for their own safety.

They do this for 187 days/year, and contrary to the public's understanding, they only get paid for those 187 days. It's split up into monthly payments to ensure they can provide for their own families during the summer months and winter break.

Their benefits have been dwindling at the same rate as those outside of the field of education, and their retirement age is now that of most in the private sector, as long as they've contributed to a retirement plan. Each month, they pay 8-10% of their meager income, just like the rest of the population, to make sure that they will have something to live off of after their careers are over.

And they are paid, on average, $1-$2 per child per contact hour (five hours/day) they have with that child.

Less than what a teenage sitter with no expertise charges.

Conservatives, don't assume that teachers have it easy because they get breaks and because they can retire.

Liberals, don't assume that teachers have it harder than others in the field of monetary compensation. The whole business world was been hit by the recession.

Conservatives, please know that I sat at a union meeting where teachers voted to take a pay cut to ensure our students get the education and individual attention they need.

Liberals, please work for the needs of our effective teachers that did this, not the ineffective or partially effective teachers who aren't good at their jobs.

Politics in general, stay the heck out of my classroom.

Conservatives, it is true that democrats make up the majority of our teachers.  But you are alienating them, including the conservative ones, with your attitude of mistrust and arrogance.

Liberals, you have taken advantage of your power in the classroom in the past and have protected teachers who have passed their views on to their students.

No more.

No more.

No more.

Politics, stay the heck out of my classroom.

Now there is a movement by the board to review the Social Studies AP curriculum.  I'm not against the right of the general public, or even the board itself, to review any curriculum.  In fact, I applaud involved parents and community members. But based on Ms. William's comments about the curriculum and by researching her background, I don't think she's an expert in curriculum development, and I fear that she's not valuing the opinion of those who are.

I'd like to believe her intentions are pure.  I really would.  But the board majority has shown anything but pure intentions since the beginning of its reign.

No, I don't believe that the board majority is looking to spend thousands of dollars because the Social Studies curriculum is glaringly one-sided.  In fact, I believe their actions are a retaliation of the common core philosophy that conservatives hate. Some reasons common core is hated are valid, but some are a result of blatant fear-mongering.

Board majority, stop being political. I know you were voted in because Colorado had voted far-left for much too long for conservatives. I hated the fact that marijuana was legalized and that we've been in the blue instead of the red for as long as I've lived here.

But, board majority, take your ideology and put your concerns where it belongs: in politics.

I know education is a concern for all, and it should be. But you're using your power in education to make a conservative statement while having only a little - if any - educational expertise.

And you're not trusting those that do.

Your compensation plan is a slap in the face, even for high-performing teachers.

Your curriculum changes are expensive and unnecessary. And speaking of expensive and unnecessary, you hired a superintendent who has never had experience in the position at a starting salary tens of thousands of dollars over our old one (who had many more years experience and data to confirm she was effective). I find that reckless. The $40,000 you spent to find him in a "nationwide search" (and he was just next door in Douglas County!) is even more so.

How in the world are you being fiscally conservative like the conservatives who voted you in???

Don't get me wrong.  I hope and pray that Superintendent McMinimee is effective and helps increase our scores. He has done nothing so far to make me question that he's good at his job. He has walked into a horribly complicated, unhappy situation and has handled it with dignity. He seems like a nice man and has been nothing but polite to me. I hope he helps us succeed. I really do.

But conservatives typically believe that educators must be paid based on performance. If this is true, then doesn't he need to prove his effectiveness before being given a huge increase in salary, one that exceeds the previous Superintendent's salary after she was there for years?

Isn't it hypocrisy at its finest to be okay with it in one instance, but not okay with it in another?

Last year, Douglas County's scores fell, pretty uniformly and across the board. Jeffco's TCAP scores were consistently higher than the average state scores during Stevenson's time as Superintendent, and last year was the same.

But she never got the salary he's getting in his first year, which is unproven thus far.

Shame on you for saying you're conservative and have the public's interests at heart. Shame on you.

I know there's a backlash against the liberal leaning in this state, but those actions do not belong in the field of education.

Give me the statistics that say AP students don't know the topics that Julie Williams outlined.

Show me how teachers sway their students to convert their thinking into a reflection of their own.

If there are teachers and if there is curriculum that is left-leaning, looking to convert students, then it needs to be dealt with.

But I am a conservative minority in Jeffco Schools, and I don't see it.

I can only think of one instance where a teacher told students of her political affiliation, and I've lived in Colorado for five elections.

As a teacher, my students always tried to guess what I felt about a certain situation or candidate, and I presented both sides without trying to sway them one way or another.

And all teachers but the one I mentioned above adhered to that same philosophy.

Politics. Teachers know that it needs to stay out of our classrooms, that students don't need to be subjected to the ugliness of it until they are old enough to be able to think critically for themselves, to look at the facts and draw their own conclusions.

But the left and right keep sneaking politics in, whether it's through NCLB and Reading First, or Common Core and the new curriculum.

They do this because they are politicians.

But school boards were never intended to be political, and there is a reason for it.

Because politics need to stay the heck out of our classrooms.

Let the facts be taught, and let the values and opinions centered around those facts be discussed at the dinner table with families. Let the students think critically for themselves and be introduced to different ideas without being forced to adhere to a single one.

Let the kids be kids, for crying out loud.

And politics, stay where you are meant to stay.

Out of my classroom.

To A Future Teacher

Dear Future Teacher,

I am so happy to meet you.  Looking in your eyes, I see the same excitement and enthusiasm that I still have in mine.  You are ready to make a difference in the lives of young ones, to teach them how to think, how to problem-solve, create, and how to draw conclusions. You are ready to be a faithful, trustworthy, and consistent mentor in their lives. You are ready to love these children almost as much as you love your own and invest every particle of your being into making them successful, which will make you feel successful, too.

I am so happy you chose this rewarding career, that you are doing something God made you to do.  You won't ever regret it.  Teachers are a special breed of people, and I know you are up to the task.  But before you embark on this journey, you need to know a few obstacles that you will have to overcome:

1) You need to know that no matter how hard you try, how much of a difference you try to make, sometimes you will feel like a failure.  But know deep in your heart that this is not true.  Although you may not feel like you're making any difference in the lives of the students you teach, you are.  Your job will be thankless at times, and that's okay.  Your "thank you" will be told to you someday, whether it's at a graduation or at a grocery store when you run into former students.  Love them dearly, try your best, and invest every cell of your body into this field you love so much, and you will see them blossom.  And their success will be your greatest reward.

2) You will never be able to keep these students at a distance and run your classroom like a business.  It's just impossible.  If you're a good teacher, you will leave a little part of your heart in that classroom every day. You cannot "fire" those who aren't doing their job and "hire" those that will. And you won't ever want to, because believing every student can learn will be part of your innermost being. It will be what keeps you going when all you want to do is give up. There will be people who will say - probably with good intentions - that your salary should solely be determined by the outcome of your students' performance.  Don't hate them or even roll your eyes.  Stand up for yourself.  Show them that you know best practices, but also inform them of the obstacles you face.

3) You cannot ignore the outside variables that will affect the outcome of how you teach. 

Some students will come to you without any food to eat at home, or after a sleepless night listening to their mom get beat up. Make sure your heart and ears and eyes are open to their ugly reality. 

Some students will come from another country, where they feared for their lives on a daily basis. Do the best you can to make them feel safe. 

Some students will come from a home where you are belittled, and because those students love you, they will feel torn. Love them, anyway. 

It will feel impossible to teach them because of what is going on in their lives, but teach them anyway.  They desperately need what you are giving them, the hope that there is a future away from the fear that they have always known.

4) People will think you do this work for the early retirement, great benefits, and summers off.  They will justify your less-than-meager salary with these things, but take note, dear teacher of children: you don't get to retire early.  Maybe there was a time where teachers did, but that retirement model wasn't sustainable so that is no longer true.  The benefits are also dwindling.  Every year, they shrink in size, rather than grow more robust, a consequence of changes in our country's healthcare system. Teachers pay out-of-pocket for more things now than they did a few years ago, just like most careers.  

And this is especially important, future teacher: you don't get paid for your summers off.  Your salary is based only on the 187 days you work.  Your school district will find your daily rate and multiply it by 187 to get your annual salary. Then they will divide your annual salary by 12 so you get paid throughout the year, rather than miss a paycheck during the eight weeks you have off in the summer. And this is a tough pill to swallow, too, teacher: your daily salary for teaching thirty students for only five hours (not including your lunch or planning periods) will be less than it would if you were charging only $3 per hour/child to run a day care, and that's if you're the highest-paid teacher with the most degrees and the most experience.  In fact, over half of all teachers will earn less than $1 per hour/child if they have a classroom of thirty students. That's much less than what day cares charge. Or even teenage sitters. And you will be responsible for much, much more. 

5) You will never take advantage of the breaks you get.  You will grade papers and develop lesson plans. You will organize and prepare your classroom and buy supplies. And even if you put in the extra hours days before a break to get all of that done so you can relax, you won't.  You will close your eyes and think about those sweet cherubs you teach.  You will call colleagues and ask for advice on how to best get through to a certain student.  You will wonder if they're doing okay, even when you are supposed to be taking time off. Liken it to being a parent: even though you're away from your kids, you think about them and want to do what's best for them.

6) You will feel guilty.  You will be grading papers at your own children's games.  You will ignore time with your spouse so you can grade papers and collect data. You will feel like you are putting your students' needs before your family's, and if you choose to "leave work at work," you will inevitably feel like you are cheating your students.  Recognize that guilt and rectify it.  You are only one person trying to please too many.  Do what you can, but acknowledge your limitations.

7) Stand up for yourself.  You will be told that you deserve the pay you get and that your job is easy with amazing benefits.  But you are an intelligent, capable person with the same schooling most people have in the business world, maybe even more.  You may be told to spend ten to fifteen thousand dollars of your own money (sometimes half of your yearly salary) to get an additional degree so you become more knowledgeable in your field.  And sometimes, the promise of a pay raise that goes with that investment becomes an empty one. Sometimes the raise your district offers you will be a slap in the face for the years you put in and the money you invested in perfecting your craft.  You will agree to a pay cut so students' needs don't go unmet, only to be accused that you put your own needs before theirs when you ask for a raise.

Don't buy it.  Not for one second.  Because you are teaching students something outside of the curriculum, teachers.  You are teaching them how to value your own hard work, how to be proud of what you do, and stand up for yourself.  Don't allow yourself to be demonized for knowing you deserve more for doing a job well done. Part of a person's character is recognizing every person's worth, and that includes your own.  

Future teacher, you will make a difference in students' lives. Every day.

You will worry yourself sick over at least one of your students.  Every year.

And you will feel guilty for wanting to earn a living doing what you love to do. Every second. 

But take heart, and be courageous.  Because those smiling faces with proud eyes are the best reward, and your efforts will not go unnoticed. Your courage will be a model for all students who feel hopeless and lost at times.  Your confidence will show your students to take pride in whatever work God asks them to do.  

You, future teacher, will do much more than "just" teach for summers off.  You will change lives at the expense of your own, just as parents do.  And you'll be okay with it.  It's what you were born to do.

Love,

A Lifelong Learner and Fellow Teacher