I Am Not A Bet.

I wasn't going to write this, in fear of slander, but due to a few urgings, here is the story...

They put a bet on me. The teacher next door to me in the hallway came to my door yesterday. I told him I resigned. He said, "You're kidding." I said, "No, I did." And he stuck out his hand, as if to congratulate me and smiled and was excited from ear to ear and said, "YES! I Won! I Won!"

I looked at him dumbfounded and blinking and said, "Excuse me?"

And he was so excited he was nearly jumping up and down, and he was yelling about it, "Yes! I won! We put bets on who would make it and I knew you wouldn't make it this year. I won! I won!" He laughed and screamed and was so excited.

I stood at my doorpost, my mouth gaping, my head lead down and forward in shock, disbelief, and hurt. I didn't know what to say or do. I just stood there humiliated, hurt, shocked, and like someone punched me.

I walked into my room, put my kids in their seats, and quieted the class. This took a minute or two, and when it was quiet, I heard through the closed door and walls his voice booming through the hallways, passing so loud to other teachers from one end to another, "YES! I won! I won! I knew she wouldn't make it! Only one more teacher to go..."

He was elated. I was furious and crushed. I told my students to remain quietly in their seats and that I would be right back. I walked out, and called his name. He didn't turn around. I called again, and strove up to him in a bee-line and said, "This is completely disrespectful. This is inappropriate and I will not be treated this way."

He laughed and shrugged it off as if it was funny and he was just so excited that he won.

I was furious. I stomped to the assistant principals office, but she wasn't there. Then to the Principal's office, but he wasn't there either. The secretary asked if something was wrong, "I said yes and that I needed a principal.

She sat me down, I started to cry. She went and found another assistant principal who listened and was angry at the whole situation, which now had to be documented and I had to give statements for employee relations.

But in the midst of it, all I could think, all I can think, is that I am not a bet. I am not a joke. I am a human being. And I deserve to be treated and respected as such.

So if anyone wonders about my job. If anyone questions why I quit, or if my feelings outweigh my sense of logic, let this story be told. Let you understand that my school just isn't a safe place for my kids, but it is not a safe place for me.

Because I am not a bet. I am not a joke. I am a human being.

Feelings Speak.

Some people say I feel too much, or am too sensitive, or shouldn't let my feelings be so enduring in my heart. Well, I disagree. I feel my feelings. I know my feelings. I also trust that God guides my feelings often. And here is just one more dictation of that:

This blog post in italics is copied from this August:

I once took a job that I knew from the first meeting that I shouldn't have. It was at a church and I had a terrible feeling about it from the get-go, but based on the fact that I had no other options and it seemed everyone I talked to thought it was a great job for me, I took it. It was security, it was a salary, it was a step.
I found out really quickly why I had that stubborn intuition, and that I should have followed that instead. I found out really quickly that I can't always put logic and practicality over the Spirit's guidance. It ended up with me quitting (which got messy) after about 2-3 months and tumbling through a series of hurdles in between.
I think that's why I have this fear now. Because setting foot on the campus of this new school gives me the same feeling. The same "I shouldn't be here" thing. All practicality points to a salary, benefits, a place to go everyday. And I try to reason with it -- that its a place for me to go everyday, that sixth graders could be a good change, that I can fight through it and it might get better. That its just my emotions in turmoil right now.
But I'm not sure that this is right. I'm not sure what I will do if I don't stay there. I'm not sure if I trust my emotions and intuition right now when everything seems out of wack. But I have that same feeling... which then echos with fear.

And God spoke through my feelings. And I knew it. I knew it then. I know it now. So the next time someone wants to tell me I feel too much, lean into my feelings too much, or don't see outside of my feelings, be aware of this. And be aware of the fact that I understand logic, I am made in God's likeness. I am made with a capable brain, a practical mind, and a discerning wisdom. But I am also made with my feelings. And sometimes, often, God speaks through them and with them and leads me by them.

Brown Eyed Toddler.

I feel like a toddler without her. Learning to relieve and resee life. I feel like a child who doesn't understand or know or know how. Like I keep looking up with big brown eyes, as if from a children's book, asking for my mother. Looking for direction, for help, for guidance. For her hands to hold mine and help me walk. For her voice to be supportive, directive, encouraging, calming, and genuine. For her arms and chest to be soft and smell of her, cuddling me in the embrace of safety. I feel like a wayward, lost, consumed, needy toddler without her.

Missing Her.

Two weeks ago, I narrated about the missing her part. Something in me is changing. Something in me is wrenching me to crying tears in missing her so badly it hurts. Whether it was because of the comfort of a friend near that allowed me to completely unravel, let down my walls, and just mourn.... Or if something new is upon me, I do not know. But I miss her so much that my mind rehearses David over and over...

"My tears have been my food day and night" Psalm 42:3

I cry over lots of things, but the last week, missing, needing her is the epitome of my brokenness.

Mysia.

"When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia,

but the spirit of Jesus would not allow them to." Acts 16:6

This verse has mulled around in me for weeks. I first remember settling on it teaching my eighth grade Bible class the last few years, and always wondering about it, and explaining to the kids that I didn't understand why this was. Then it came back to me recently because of a beautiful little leather book that I drink from:

"What a strange thing for the Lord to prohibit, for they were going to Bithynia to do Christ's work! And the door was shut before them by Christ's own Spirit.
There have been times when I have experienced the same thing. Sometimes I have been interrupted in what seemed to be quite productive work. And at times, opposition came and forced me to go back, or sickness came and forced me to rest in some isolated place.
During such times, it was difficult for me to leave my work unfinished when I believed it was service done in the power of His Spirit. But I finally remembered that the Spirit requires not only a service of work, but a service of waiting. I came to see that in the kingdom of Christ, there are not only times for action, but times to refrain from action. And I also came to learn that a place of isolation is often most the most useful place of all in this diverse world. Its harvest is more rich than the seasons when the corn and wine were most abundant. So I have learned to thank the blessed Holy Spirit that many a beautiful Bithynia had to be left without a visit from me."

~ L.B. Cowman

Streams in the Desert, p.362

This verse has caused me to ponder because of my recent turn of events. Can the Spirit of the Lord direct me away from things that to many others seemed to think were from him? Can his Spirit prevent me from flourishing in a land that I seem to force my spirit into? Can a place, even if it is in need of Christs work and love, be kept apart from the people who are sent there, simply because the Lord is directing the person otherwise?

In my wrestling today, this is my heartfelt wonder. Can the Spirit of God close the doors on working at Wilson, simply because he needs my heart in another place? Can I walk away from it, not because the kids don't need me or the school isn't in need of "lights" for Christ, but because the Lord has chosen himself not to allow me to be present there?

Breaking Bread.

Tea baskets, coffee grounds, creamers separated in a jar. Linen table clothes, purple flowers, and bowls filled with skittles and snacks. An egg casserole in the fridge, honey on the table, and get-to-know-you questions near the chair. Signs around my doors and decor.

My bloom brunch was prepared for my friends to join me the day that mom died. I had stayed home that night to cook and make sure my blessing was ready. Then I received the phone call...

I haven't cooked since. I cried on my way home from Walmart this week, wishing I could cook something for my friends. But I can't. I can't think like that, I can't plan like that, I can't put my heart into it like that.

I used to have dinner parties every month for different groups of friends. It was my gift, blessing, and passion of the month. To gather them around the table and share the blessing of a meal with them.

But I can't cook now. I can't create. My heart dies within me in it.

Take Me On.

A friend was talking about this guy who was asking for my number. He's a nice guy. Really, he is. But my heart drops in a "lug" motion and I can almost hear the sound of it plump down in a lump.

Because its too much for anybody to take me on right now. I walk around with weights attached to me, and a heaviness of heart and spirit many days, and that is too much right now for any guy to take on. There isn't a strong enough strength to date me, it takes adding my grief, my mourning, my hurting from my job, the emotional beatings in daily life at school, and the complete break down of my life as I knew it. There are no safety nets anymore. There are no places to hide and seek refuge and comfort. Its just me, rawness and tears and honesty and all.

So to ask me out, means asking for this. I know him well enough to know it couldn't be a casual date. Because we're already friends. But like this, I'm too much. No one wants to date someone with the heaviness and baggage I carry right now. I might smile in front of many, and be entertaining and laughter. But when you sit with me over coffee, I don't pretend. I don't small talk. I don't take light the days I'm in nor the days ahead of me. No one wants to take on my family right now. No one wants to take me on.