Blogs from the Deep

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Crocodile-like Skin

     I confess that I envy the crocodile. With that Birthday Suit not much could faze or damage its skin-type. Harpoons maybe. Maybe bazookas, but I mean the day-to-day stuff: insects, unsanitary water, rude hippos etc. It seems that tough skin and grit are what you need to get by in this world. But after some mild soul searching, I am starting to conclude that I am cream-filled and the skin holding it all together isn't as deep or strong as I would like.
     I was one of the few souls who managed to skip the middle school experience when I was younger. I have fairly cheery memories of that time in my life, blissfully floating through my education as an awkward homeschooler. But now I get to live middle school everyday as a public school orchestra teacher. I teach 5 different orchestras, plus two other classes, and this year my 8th grade orchestra has given me a run-for-my-money. I've tried most of the tricks I know to get them to focus and to be engaged. I want to teach them something worthwhile, but it feels like I have to fight them for every inch. No, not just every inch, every millimeter! Every so often I exhort them to show respect to the discipline of playing a stringed instrument, and show it to whoever is on the podium "Whether you love or hate your director you still show them respect." I spend a lot of time planning what I am going to do next for that particular class, and I admit tears have been shed as I've penciled in lesson plans and silently conducted through the scores for our next rehearsal. Sometimes at night I contemplate how I am going to respond to kids being rude, or not acknowledging my greeting, or just showing attitude. Certain names come to mind. I can feel myself getting upset at these times, and sometimes losing sleep over these things. "Go to sleep! Stop being anxious!" I tell myself. The brain doesn't easily shut off. I am aware that I can cast my cares upon the Lord. And I do. And sleep does come. Eventually. It just hasn't been easy-peasy. Did I mention that I wish I had tougher skin?
     In the last few weeks I have experienced some heart break. I cannot go into detail, but it was at some level the death of a dream. Something I really hoped would happen took an unexpected turn, and now I am healing from this train wreck, thinking "I never saw that coming." Even if I had seen it coming, would I have done anything different? I have no answer to this. For this. However, if you have advice on the best flavor of ice cream to consume while in the middle of a train wreck, feel free to comment below.
     Maybe praying for tough skin isn't the way to go. I have heard that there is a load of good in being pliable. Teachable. One of my students in the previously mentioned 8th grade class wrote a note at the end of an assignment, and I read it for the first time today. She said she enjoyed and respected my class, and thanked me for making her last year at middle school amazing. This caught me off guard. It is one of the most encouraging things I have received for some time. Maybe some of this investment is worthwhile. Maybe not all of my 8th graders hate my guts. And maybe, if I really had crocodile-like skin, this note would not have the same value to me. Just a thought. And I will leave it here.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

An Evening at Helzberg

I went to the Kansas City Symphony last week, and walked away thinking "I should do this more often!" The program was all Saint-Saens, cradled in the belly of Helzberg Hall whose wooden insides reverberate like a musical instrument. Noah Geller did an outstanding job performing on the violin; at times his solo was as sharp as a knife cutting through a sea of symphony, and at other times it was alluringly allusive. And that was the beauty of it. At times Geller would strike a high harmonic that was enshrouded within the auspices of the orchestra, and then the orchestra would suddenly fall away, leaving that note resonating, clean and clear; simply earth shattering. The Saint-Saens Organ Concerto was also remarkable in its own way. At times I was struck with a returning motif that left me frantically sorting through snippets enfolded within my music memory. Where had I heard that before? I started grinning like a simpleton as soon as I realized it was part of the soundtrack to Babe. Who says that movies about talking pigs are not educational?

Friday, May 10, 2013

Hallmark Landmarks

When visiting landmark locations one is willing to undergo levels of discomfort in an effort to see whatever makes that place famous. When exploring Paris with a friend, I remember walking for miles to make sure the Louvre, Eiffel and Arc de Triumph were adequately checked off my list. By the end of the day it felt like I was walking on glass due to cheap shoes, and unbeknownst to me at the time, a broken bone in my foot. When traveling in China, I went to see The Great Wall in the middle of Winter. Getting there in an unheated vehicle was toe-numbing cold. But was it worth it? Absolutely. Traveling within Turkey was the same way. Three buddies and I rode for 13 hours in a bus through the night to get to Ephesus. We explored the ruined city for a day, and then rode all through the next night to get back to Istanbul where we were staying with a friend. Exhausting; not the most cush trip of my life, but definitely worth it.
I finished reading through the Bible today. With blushing cheeks I will admit it took me way longer than the ambitious three month reading plan I ventured out upon, but something weighing on my mind is an exchange between John and an angel in the book of Revelation. The angel says to John "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the lamb!" (Rev. 21:9, NET). You can almost hear the excitement in his voice. And then they did that. It's recorded that they scoped out the new Jerusalem together and it was awesome. Brilliant like a precious jewel; a city with walls of jasper and gold, and with a foundation of sapphire. Sounds like something that leaves the highlights of France, China and Turkey in the dust. And then it goes on to describe the saints within the city. Those with the name of the lamb written on their foreheads. So there is the real bride! As powerful of a sight to behold the new Jerusalem in all its shiny-amazingness, the real landmark sight was the bride itself; Christ and his bride. I find this wonderful. Earlier today I was dwelling on the disheveled state of church, and my own imperfect state, but it won't always be this way. Someday, the bride of the lamb is going to be a fearsome thing to behold; so much so that the tour guides will be advertising her as one of the main attractions. It's not just about what is going to be in heaven, but whom. Transformed; redeemed and perfect.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Paths

What if... something good was on its way the split moment one foot broached on the threshold of another path. A pathway that led down more arduous trails and lightening attacks that leave one shattered? What would you miss? Who would you be denying? Yourself? Your God? A crushing blow to your identity; a lessening in the ability to hold your head up. To make enemies with your own conscious. Your God knows your hunger; your thirsts; how your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. The inward cries. The minor keyed songs left unsung. Don't fool yourself. Don't look down that way. Take heed of the wrecked ships and desperate souls. Keep yourself from straying. Be a haven to those who are desperate, not a refugee yourself, except to the one whose wings are outspread over you even now.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Passover with Strangers

This year I celebrated Passover with Chabad, KU’s Jewish Life Center. I’ve been to Seder dinners before, but this year I wanted to experience something a little more authentic and… well, more Jewish. I have also been on this kick since I have been back from China to try to get out of my comfort zone, and this fit the bill. I was nervous the entire drive to Lawrence- that’s how I know it met the requirements for Comfort Zone Abandonment.

It took me a while to find the house that the dinner was held at, but when I actually spotted the place I was like “How could I have missed this?” It had a large Menorah situated on the front lawn.

I felt that it wasn’t really the kind of place that insisted you knock on the front door before entering, so I just walked in, which took some chutzpah. Inside, there were long tables arranged in a giant “E” shape and I sat down in one of the empty plastic chairs. It took some coaxing to break the ice with the strangers around me, but eventually I was able to draw them out by pelting them with questions.

The Seder took about 3 ½ hours. It was overseen by a joke-loving Rabbi, and we didn’t eat until the tail end of the event. I was sent an e-mail before I came that encouraged me to grab a bite ahead of time, and afterwards I was glad that I followed the advice. At the beginning of the evening I tried to mumble Hebrew along with the rest of the group, but I gave up on this endeavor after the first two minutes- realizing that I had been “reading” the script backwards. Throughout the meal I washed my hands twice, both times in special ways. I’m not sure why, and the girl next to me didn’t know why either. In addition to this, I clapped my hands during the songs, ate beef brisket, swayed in a circle, was blessed by the Rabbi, and danced to Jewish songs with a group of women.

I don’t know if I’ll run into these people again; KU’s campus is fairly large, but I’m grateful that they let me catch a glimpse of how they celebrate the holiday of Passover. And even though we were strangers, we did have a common bond. We both wanted to remember that God saved His people Israel from the hand of Pharaoh in Egypt, and performed miraculous wonders in the process, including providing a covering from the death angel through the blood of an innocent lamb. Even though that common bond doesn’t entirely unite us, it makes a solid start. And overall, I view it as having been a successful evening.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Most

The most beautiful thing I've seen today took place on Gage Street. As I was running errands this morning I passed "The Phelps People" holding their many signs to offend practically every category of people out there, and as I was averting my eyes so as to keep my emotions in check, I spotted an older man holding an American flag on the opposite side of the street. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was a Veteran and that the decorated vest he wore probably was linked to his previous military experience. As I finished going to the bank, I looped around the same path, and tried to spot the man again. He was gone, but so were the Phelps gang. They had moved up the street a few blocks. Here's a "Hurrah!"for the gentleman who was willing to stand by himself across from approximately 30 people with radically opposing viewpoints, and to the man who intimidated that group enough that they had to move down the street.

The most uncomfortable thing I saw today was along the same lines. It was a young police officer shouting across the street and making exaggerated hand gestures to 10 skateboarding teenagers. I could tell the skateboarders had the upperhand.

The most profound thing I read today was in a book called Kisses from Katie by a gal named Katie Davis. This girl went to Uganda straight out of High School, and continued on there, helping to establish an NGO that lifts up the impoverished children of her neighborhood. It's an inspiring read; convicting at the same time; a great example of what God can do with someone who has an open and willing heart.