Sir, Amen!

Today was excellent. Allow me to recount my day for you:

1. I sleep in (by choice) and subsequently got to school around seven this morning. That's crazy late for me! But I am so grateful for the extra sleep that I feel great for the day.

2. My first two hours fly by rather well. Then it's third hour.

3. Oh third hour. Not sure what was in the air today, but by far one of the funniest hours we've had all year. My face felt like it was about to break from all the smiling I was doing. I'm hopeful that we actually learned something during the hour, but, if not, at least we had a fun time. And if we did? Then holy cow! I need to figure out to have class like that every day.

4. Actually got a few things done during 4th hour today, and finally got it through a student's head that he really shouldn't pay me such excessive compliments. At least, I think I got it through his head. We'll see if he says his normal "Miss Martin, you're lookin' good today. That's really working for you."

You think it'd be rude to pretend to throw up when he says that? Just a thought.

5. Share my high school journal with my little Creeper and I have a great conversation with her. We chat about high school and high school relationships, learning from heartbreak, and the reality of love. I felt great about the conversation . . .

6. . . . that is, until I discovered that a student had eavesdropped on our conversation! Then that student got another student to ask me about a conversation I thought had been private! And of course that student had to ask about the specific phrase that would probably throw me off the most.

Ridiculous. I shall now have to watch everything I say in school because apparently little ears are always around the corner to catch anything that will fall in.

So besides that little annoyance, school was great today. I've been having a lot of fun lately. Seriously.

7. I got another note from a student! So happy! This note was more of a series of little notes (cute!) and they're definitely going to go with the other one. I'm starting a little file where I can keep meaningful notes from students and pull them out on a bad day.

And now, here's a present for my Little Creeper. She knows who she is.

30 Facts About MB

1. Even though it hurts, I love it when my cheeks are red and freezing because it makes me feel alive.

2. I do not like to be touched in any way (no hugs, or even a hand on the arm) by ANYONE unless it's someone I'm interested in/involved with romantically. This puzzles many people. 

3. After being in theatre for most of my life, I no longer have any modesty. This makes some of my friends uncomfortable. Who needs closed doors or turned backs?

4. Very rarely does something I "love" stick around for good, for I'm always finding new things to enjoy and new interests; however, I've stuck with a very specific favorite salad dressing for five years now with no signs of getting bored. This = progress! 

5. I finally became someone with internet on her phone who texts a lot. I'm my own worst nightmare. 

6. Every now and then I contemplate running away and starting from scratch.

7. The fastest way to my heart is to write me a long and honest letter. 

8. These are the physical traits I am most attracted to in a man, in order: defined forearms, a broad and strong back, thick eyebrows, dark hair, a strong nose, rugged hands, a full beard, and a thick neck.

9. My body craves about 9 hours of sleep a night. I've been living consistently on 5. I can feel the years falling off the end of my life . . .

10. I believe in fate, love-at-first-sight, and soul mates mostly because my parents' love story proves that all those things are true. 

11. I sing along to most songs whether I like them or not. I can't stop. 

12. I only listen to country music once a year: at the yearly barn dance. At that time I forget my disdain for country music and just enjoy country swing, line dancing, and two-stepping. Then it's back to sanity.

13. I make every visitor to my house lay on my bed. It's seriously the best thing you've ever felt.

14. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind me that this is my life now and it's not just some fabulous dream.

15. I feel attractive and comfortable in my skin for the first time in seven years, and it shows. 

16. Sometimes I can be overly confessional. I like my life to be an open book for people.

17. I'm seriously considering letting people fix me up with someone for the first time in my life. This makes me somewhat nervous.

18. When I'm awake, I'm awake. I don't drink caffeine in any form. 

19. If my hot water would last for an hour I'm sure I could take an hour long shower. 

20. I am a night person for sure. I become really productive and really energetic. My house gets really clean and organized after 8 every night!

21. I love the stars so much. I want to lay on someone's roof and watch the stars all night. Can someone make that happen?

22. Living alone is amazing. I don't have to worry about surprising roommates, I can stay up until 3 a.m. and be loud, and I can wear (or not wear) whatever I want.

23. When I get married, my husband better not be a cuddler. I hate sharing a bed (as Kristy knows)!

24. I love it when people call me by a nickname. The most common is MB. The people I love most call me MB. You should call me MB.

25. I love, love, love to dance. Waltz, swing, line dance, two-step, rave, hip-hop, you name it and I'll do it. A man who will swing me around is an instant source of pure joy.

26. I really like being short. I love being able to fit right under someone's arm.

27. I do not stay angry. Ever. It's too stressful to hold on to anger. 

28. I haven't felt exhilaration like this in a long time. Life is so fun right now.

29. I love humor about bodily functions, and I'm not afraid to talk about the real thing, too. Deal with it.

30. I'm so glad that I'm teaching high school. These kids will keep me young for life.

A Thanksgiving conversation, for kicks.

Family traditions. So touching, so sweet, so moving.

Ha!

When we hear the word tradition we usually think of something old, something to revered, something sacred. Generally. The traditions in my family, however, are quite often not those things, and I'm sure many of my gentle readers will agree when it comes to their own families.

Some of the traditions in my family include:
1. Making the same cake every year for Christmas.
2. Fighting over who gets what firework as we watch them on the 4th.
3. Bourbon slush.
4. Being sci-fi geeks.
5. Making fun of my mom at every chance.
6. Playing cards.
7. Making fun of my mom while playing cards.
8. Making fun of me if my mother happens to be gone.

Well, when everyone was here for Thanksgiving there was no way we could pass up a few of these traditions. Bourbon slush? Good thing I had some left for everyone. Making fun of my mom? Easy (and done in love)! Playing cards?

Ah, playing cards.

Getting the four of us together while playing cards simply asks for trouble. The quips. The shouting. The insults. My sister and I generally fighting, poking, and prodding at each other. Everyone yelling at my dad, the human vacuum. Us making fun of my mom and them making fun of the way I say things.

It's a good time.

Occasionally those moments will crop up when the stars align and conditions are perfect for a moment that will forever live in everyone's memory. One such time happened about a dozen year ago while we were playing a game. Let's just say that an ample amount of caffeine and my inability to hold in a burp made the word "spades" one of the funniest sounds a human being has ever made. I'm serious. Just say the word "spades" around my father, and he'll dissolve into a fit of giggles and just repeat "spoooo," spUHoooo" over and over again (because that's what I sounded like).

And yesterday was another such moment. I love my family so much, and I love spending time with them. I now present to you one of my favorite conversations my family has ever had, past, present, and (I'm sure) future:

-

Mom:       What am I supposed  to do with these cards?
Dad:         I don't know, what am I supposed to do with these cards?
Me:          Mom, why don't you rub them together and see if they make something new?
Mom:       Ben, why don't we rub ours together and see if they make something new?
Dad:         We've already done that twice.

-

Need I say more?

A Thanksgiving post, obviously.

Ah, the obligatory Thanksgiving post.

Sometimes listing off all the things I'm thankful for can feel so trite, if I'm really honest, but this year I have so much to be thankful for. Some are small. Some are big. Some are familiar and constant, and some are new and exciting.

Now that my hands are clean after giving the turkey an olive oil rubdown (yes, you heard me), let's get on to the list!

1. Ready for the Superchurch answer? . . . Jesus!
I could say so much here, and it would never be enough. He has dictated every part of my life and He has never failed me. He is my bridegroom and my home, and He will never leave me.

2. My new home.
You've seen the house in posts before, so you know that it's pretty adorable. With limited options, I ended up getting a house better than I imagined. Not too big, pretty cute, and with enough projects to keep me busy, I couldn't have asked for more.

3. My new job.
I became a teacher because I knew I'd do well. I discovered that I love teaching. I get to go to school every day, talk about literature, keep things organized (and those of you who know me understand!), and hang out with kids all day. And make fun of them. And laugh at them. And seriously, I laugh and smile all day long. You've read some stories already, like this one and this one, and I'll always have more for you. I wake up each day excited for work, and I don't know many people who can say that.

4. My new town.
If I'm brutally honest (and let's face it, I usually am), I did not want to come here. I wanted to stay where things were familiar. Who wouldn't? But God said no and sent me here. And you know what? He totally knew what he was doing. I adore this place. The school. The feeling of community. New friends. My church. Knowing people and being known.

5. My new life.
God shut a lot of things down for me last spring. It was hard, to put it lightly. I thought my new life would be getting out into the world and moving to a big city. I thought teaching would simply be a short pit stop before my real life began. And I think that's changed. Crazy, right? I feel like I could stay here forever. Teach here forever. A man might steal me away someday, but until then, I think I'll be here indefinitely. And that's exciting!

6. Friends and family.
Not too much to say. Just that I love them so much and would not be the woman I am today without them. I have been so blessed, and I hope these pictures will show you why.

I love my dad. He taught me as a father and as a teacher. I learned most of my good teaching skills from him. 

And by him constantly berating me and putting me down, I learned how to hold my own. Love you, Dad!

My mother is one of my best friends which I never would have imagined in high school.

She taught me to love music, love people, and love decorating. And I love her.

Ah, Seeeester. We've hated each other enough for two lifetimes. Now we love each other. Always and forever. And look how pretty she is!

Oh my brothers in Christ. There are more of you, and I appreciate all of you. Your concern for my safety, my heart, and my life has blessed me. 

You show me such a picture of Christ's love, and reassure me that there are amazing and incredible godly men out there.

The last generation of the Bluff house. Some of the best years of my life with some of the best girls.

Oh, my dear Meghan. Your sweet and gentle heart inspires me. Your passion for your causes motivates me in mine (even if we're different).

You cut some mean hair and have fabulous taste. 

My little Sarah. You're like a surrogate little sister to me. And a friend. All rolled in one. Your obsessions make me giggle and my weirdness makes

you shake your head. We're a good pair, and I miss you.

Amy. Amy, Amy, Amy. You know my heart, and I know yours. Honestly, we get each other. And this picture

illustrates visually that we are twins mentally. 

 Ah Joyce, our tears and laughter have filled many precious hours of my life. I love you so much, my sister.

Saras, you are so fetch. And sweet. And I love that we became fast friends, and I'm sad that I'm no longer there with you. 

Kristy, you know my deepest heart, and I am honored to know yours. Thank you for all your words and encouragement. 

I am, and will always be, grateful for your hand in my life during this year.

Anna MinneMAN! I love you so much my darling. You are sweet and precious, and I am mean to you. It's the way it is. 

You're one of my oldest friends, and I love that we've seen each other grow over the years. No one's singing will ever more to me than yours.

Trust me, I could go on and on about people. You might even find some surprising. But I have to stop at some point! Suffice to say, the people in my life are incredible blessings every day. They energize me, encourage me, comfort me, challenge me, and love me. And I love them.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!

I am NOT a hippie . . .

Ok, so you know how you're sitting in church and the pastor is speaking the sermon? It's all fine and dandy. He's doing well, the topic is interesting, blah blah blah.

And then suddenly, a verse pops into your head and you have to look it up right now or it'll be gone?

And then maybe you spend the rest of the sermon reading that verse and around that verse and about that verse and then you realize that you missed the entire sermon?

And yes I know that was a terrible run-on sentence but seriously. Give me break. I'll write the way I want here, thank you very much. I might even end a sentence with a preposition at. So there to.

If you laughed/got the joke above then you get extra credit.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

One of those verses hit me today. My quiet times have been centering around Hebrews lately, and a few weeks ago I went though one of my favorite passages, Hebrews 12:7-13. It contains one of my life verses, vs. 12-13:

"Therefore strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."

I love this passage/verse because of its no-nonsense approach to discipline. "Life is hard and it will stay hard. God will discipline you. It's because He loves you. So chin up and move forward so that you can set an example for others."

So great. Don't give me the feelings and the lovey-dovey stuff (yet another disappointment to womanhood on my part). Give me the hard stuff. Tell me to suck it up. Be a man---metaphorically speaking.

Well, naturally, the verse I turned to today in church contains similar physical imagery. I love it when passages contain these physical references. I imagine actually strengthening my arms and knees. And this verse has plenty. I'll actually give it all to you. It's 1 Corinthians 9:24-27.

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets a prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No! I beat my body and I make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."

I think I'm attracted to these verses about discipline because my faith is such an organic thing. I have discipline in many areas of my life, but my walk with God often lacks discipline. I gravitate to worship because of its freeing nature, yet I seek out Scripture about discipline and hard work. It's like my mind craves balance, otherwise I'd end up a crazy, hippie, Jesus-freak.

Not that that's bad. Oh goodness. I've just insulted someone. Sorry. Please go back to your chamomile tea and knitting.

But in all seriousness, my brain is so wrapped up in the thinking and the theology and the logic of my faith that my soul simply said, "I can't take it anymore!" and exploded in the feeling of worship music.

I miss the Challenge band.

Well. This post went in a direction I wasn't expecting. I do miss playing in a worship band, and I count the days until I can do so again.

Now if only I could fix my bow situation . . .

Why I love teaching, reason #423

Can I tell you something?

I don't know why I'm asking. I'm going to tell you anyway, and you have no way of stopping me considering that by the time you're reading, I've already finished the post. So if your answer to the above question was, "no," you better stop reading . . . now.

For the rest of you, I'm telling you another story about school. Hope you like the school stories because there sure are lots of them.

When I student taught I was with an incredible teacher, Mrs. MC. She told me great stories about her kids, including stories about letters she received from her kids during the school year and after they'd had her.

I absolutely hate admitting this, but I had trouble really believing that that many kids would write notes. I don't know. I never wrote letters to my teachers when I was in high school. I wrote dumb notes, but nothing substantial.

I guess that just goes to illustrate that I was a bit of a careless and self-absorbed teenager. Yep. That's about right.

It took getting plugged in to my community in Wichita to discover the power of sincere and encouraging letters. I still remember my first one. I read it and just thought, "Wow. This person cares about me so much. I want to share that feeling with others. I want to give this feeling back to that person."

Then I started writing notes. I fell in love with it. I discovered that I want to write notes all the time. For encouragement, to thank people, to wish them good luck, to say congratulations, or just because.

Ok, so take these two things and add them together, like this:

skepticism about students writing letters + my love of notes and what they mean = astonished and thrilled to get my first, real letter from a student


This letter appeared on my desk during lunch, and reading it made my entire day. My entire week. Maybe my month. It was sincere, thoughtful, honest, and encouraging. It was the kind of thing that I would have written to someone.

I would write you some of the letter here, but I don't want to risk embarrassing the student. You'll just have to take my word for it.

But you usually do anyway.

Great weekend . . . wait . . . what? Really?

Things from the wedding were great. They really were. A few rough patches, but otherwise great.

And I love people so much. It'll be really hard when I stop going back every weekend. I'm getting used to seeing everyone again!

On another note, I can now add a fifth terrible thing that God's heaping on my plate!

Ready for this?

So, way back when I had to buy another violin because mine got stolen and I bought something nice, including a nice bow? Remember that? No? Well, I'm telling you now.

Anyway, I bought a nice bow. One made out of pernambuco wood. Ever heard of it? It's OK. Not everyone is up to date on the different varieties of violin bow-wood. No biggie. Well, this particular word is rare and very good for violin bows; however, it is no longer legal to make new bows from this wood. You can resell the old ones, but you just can't make news ones. This bow? You guessed it. Old. Made from pernambuco wood. From the 1920's.

Ah me, I'm sure you can see where this is going, can't you? Gentle reader, you're so smart.

I played worship this morning for the first time in ages. It felt so good. I must have been playing extra hard or something because right in the middle of practice this morning the tip of my bow popped off of the stick.

You heard me. It didn't snap. It didn't crack. It literally popped off the rest of the bow, and the hair fanned out like a long, white firework. Except I didn't "ooo" and "ahhh."

Nope. I just stood there. No one else had noticed. The sounds of worship were still surrounding me as I cradled my now useless bow in my hands. See, the thing about breaking the tip of a bow is that it can't be fixed.

You can't just slap some Gorilla Glue on it and call it good. It's done for. I can save the fittings from the end, and that's about it. People were sad for me and sympathetic, but I'm not sure they can really understand unless they've played the violin before. If you've ever played, and you've ever gotten close to your bow (because, really, that's the thing that makes your instrument sing), you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Was I careless with the bow? Of course not! Was I misusing it? Never. It seriously was an out of the blue, ridiculously terrible, crazy, random happenstance.

I haven't even cried yet. I think I'm still in shock. And surprisingly, still in a good mood.

We'll see how long it lasts. I'll let you know.

Because I know you hang on every word.

I want to be fat . . . keep reading. It'll make sense.

Yikes. The last few days have slowly heaped on more bad things for me than I've had in the entire four months I've lived in my beautiful, small town!

First, I was again confronted with my own ugliness and selfishness. Thanksgiving is coming up, and it's a time for family, togetherness, and thankfulness, right? Well, it's also the time that MB gets the most selfish.

Let me explain.

I'm not one to invite people to family functions. I'm just not. I don't know why. I dated someone for six years and never even felt strange about not having him at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Those times are sacred to me somehow, and I just always figured I'd never invite anyone until he was officially part of my family.

Now, for those of you who are open and welcoming and inviting, that's strange. Don't worry. I understand. I've been informed that it's a little closed-off of me.

Well, my sister is one of those open, welcoming, and inviting young ladies, and she rightly wants to welcome her new boyfriend into our celebration. Now, past history aside, I should be fine with that.

Except, this year, the celebration is taking place at my house, making me the final decision-maker. I guess I didn't realize that I'd have to make a decision like that and that it would affect me so deeply.

I discovered that I didn't want him to come. I discovered that I am so selfish about it that I threw a tantrum because of it. Oh, you heard me. A literal tantrum. Crying, whining, accusing others, and saying phrases like "It's just not fair," and "How could you do this to me?"

Yikes.

Double Yikes.

Long story a little longer, I finally decided to let him come. And now I just have to whip my selfish and whiny butt into shape so that he feels welcome.

Second, our boys lost Sub-State last night. That was pretty rough.

Your first year as a teacher, you develop a strong bond with your first "batch" of students. And, naturally, since it's a small school, the majority of the young men are on the football team. And I already love football, so when we say our boys I really men our boys. My boys, even.

My heart just breaks for my senior guys. There's more pressure and history going on this year than most, for the town works in generations. The generation before won State, and now those men's sons are on the football team, and it was their year to win State. It was crushing for them on many levels.

So, I suppose this tough thing is not necessarily my tough thing, but their pain is pretty intense.

And I feel like a momma or a sister bear. My cubs are in pain, and I'm in pain for them.

Third, I got a speeding ticket last night.  Why? Oh, just not paying attention.

Yeah. I think that speaks for itself.

And now, it's all preparing me for this afternoon.

I love weddings, OK? Don't get me wrong. I tear up when almost every bride floats down the aisle. It's the smiles on their faces. You've never seen a woman look more radiant than on her wedding day. Perhaps the moment she gives birth, but more people get the chance to see more weddings than live births, so I figured that was a better event to put in first place.

But this wedding this afternoon will be rough. It will put me to the test. The monolith will be present. It'll be in person monolith time.

And I'm not sure how I'll handle it.

God's been throwing these rough things at me lately, and I think I've figured out why.

It's like I'm a big,juicy steak, ready to be thrown onto the flames. God is the chef. He's an excellent chef. He's tenderized me right up until I'm ready to go on the grill. He's going to do everything right.

But we'll find out if I have the proper marbling to be truly delicious, or if I instead am fat-free and end up tough and chewy. Gross.

Dear Lord, please let me be fat.

Side note: Want to see how it turned out?

The monolith has finally left my chest . . .

Something finally lifted from me on Saturday night. Something that's been lurking in the back of my brain and evading all my attempts to corner it and kick it out (much like my pesky cat when she gets under my bed. you think you've got her, but no. she simply rushes out and around to the other side.).

It's taken four months, but my bitterness has finally lifted and true forgiveness has settled into its place.

A few caveats for you:

1. Four months, you say? That's nothing! Well friends, let me tell you, that's like a lifetime to me. I am literally incapable of keeping a grudge or holding things against others. Usually bitterness just slides off me overnight, and I don't think I've ever dealt with it for more than a week--and trust me, that was tough. So imagine how hard four straight months has been.

2. I am 100% aware that the person I've forgiven doesn't even need to be forgiven. He technically did nothing wrong. But, you know, hearts just don't care about technicalities, do they? Can I get an amen?

3. I'm not going to go back into the details of the situation. One of the great things about true forgiveness is the fact that the book on that particular time is closed. I've learned my lesson, and I've stored it away, but I'm not going to rehash it here for your entertainment, so back off. Love you!


And now, on to the good stuff!

--

A lot of my readers don't know this, but this was what my life has looked like for almost the last seven years:

Looking at these pictures no longer pains my heart. 

I cherish the times we had. Life has moved us forward without each other, and I'm excited about that now. 

Honestly. 

New York Trip: Chris

Perhaps my favorite part of my trip to New York (which took place a full MONTH ago!) was the opportunity to see my bestie from high school. 

There was a time that Chris and I were inseparable. Joined at the hip. Finished each others' sentences. We've laughed together, cried (tears of laughter) together, and acted together. I've helped him postpone the heat death of the universe and he's raped me.

Wait, did she just say that? What does that mean? How are these people friends? What kind of site IS this? Unfollow, unfollow!

Calm down, people. It was in a play we did together, and my dad even showed him how to do it, so look: Dad approved!

. . . and then I just lost the last few who were hanging on. 

Either way, Chris is incredibly dear to my heart, and I was dying (and a little nervous) to see him after SIX whole years without actually being in each others' presence. 

I tell you, that first hello was awkward.

A stilted hug, figuring out what to do with Chris in a beard, dealing with the fact that we're both working ADULTS (yikes), and wondering why his voice sounds weirdly different. Not to mention that our reunion was happening in the press room at New York Comic Con, which, of course, made things even more awkward.

Also, the first night out was a little tough. Blaring music can make catching up with a long-lost friend difficult for even the most dedicated reminiscer.

But things leveled out, and Saturday evening and Sunday were so great. We argued over who would cover the checks, ate Pad Thai, drank some delicious beverages, hung out with his coworkers and (perhaps) friends, enjoyed the city, and talked about all our favorite subjects: love lives, food, TV and film, people from high school, and the Chiefs.

I finally got to meet his lady, but the first meeting was awkward. I was holding down the floor of their living room, so my first night in the city I bunk down AFTER she's already gone to sleep upstairs. So my first meeting with his pretty girl was uncomfortable. But things finally even out on Saturday evening. She's everything I'd imagine for Chris.

Repping the Chiefs shirt at the Potato Famine Memorial in lower Manhattan. That's how we do.

It will doubtless be awhile before I see my friend again, but hopefully it won't be six years. 

The best part about the weekend? Falling back into the familiar banter which defined our friendship during our time at LSHS. 

Some things never change, and I am so incredibly grateful for it.