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June 18, 2024

An Excerpt

I mentioned before I am writing a book. It is coming along… very slowly at the moment. But here is an excerpt from a chapter I was working on today. Enjoy!

Our comfort zone lies within a closed hand. A friend from college once gave me a physical demonstration of this and you are welcome to try it. Right now, hold out your hand, palm up. Look away and focus on counting to thirty. Now look at your hand again. You will likely notice your fingers are more curled forward, like a fist, than they were when you first held it out. It is physically more comfortable to have a more closed hand than an open one and for most people this is also true on a spiritual level. How many times has God wanted you to open your hands and your response was to avoid it because it was more comfortable to keep your hands closed? I certainly cannot count how many times this has been the case for myself.

Everytime I go somewhere for the first time or do something for the first time (and quite often many times after that!), my comfort zone and thus, the opening of my hands, is put to the test. It took about two months of walking into the Cru weekly meeting before I stopped sitting in my car for ten minutes with my stomach in knots and the adrenaline in my body telling me to drive back to my apartment because it is way too intimidating and I do not belong there.

Obviously, this was a lie. I was wanted there and I did belong there. But this anxiety around my comfort zone does not care and does not back down. The same feeling has emerged before, in interviews, dates, starting new jobs, going to parties, and so on. It is a natural feeling, hardwired in us, and sometimes for good reason certainly. Unfamiliarity, especially for our ancestors, was closely linked to survival, whether it was trying an unfamiliar berry which could be toxic or making their presence known to another tribe who may be unfriendly. But not every berry is toxic, and not every tribe is unfriendly. The key is the ability to discern when to exit the comfort zone. And to access this discernment, we need to call upon God. A lot of times what He wants for us is obvious and we just overcomplicate it in the hopes of being able to keep our hands shut with the excuse of uncertainty at the ready.

During my sophomore year of college I went to Florida during spring break with Cru. The weather was about ten degrees below what was forecasted, I was sick, I was tired after being awake for forty hours while driving in a van all the way from Fort Collins, and I got put in a room with different girls who at the time I was not friends with and had not requested, with my roommate in particular being someone who complained non-stop, and caused several issues for students and staff alike the entire week. Needless to say, I was exhausted, ill, cold, and stressed. The perfect position to be asked to take yet another step out of my comfort zone.

My friend got baptized during that week. She invited a few of us to get up one morning to go to the beach to watch and celebrate her. Two of her close friends who were a major part of her faith journey were in Prague at the time and I decided to reach out to them beforehand to see about Facetiming them in that morning so they could surprise her and watch. Even reaching out and asking them gave me a lot of anxiety, which I know may seem silly because anxiety and the what ifs are often silly. But they agreed and said they could make the time work. I was excited but still anxious. Afterall we would be on a beach, reception may be bad, they are in a different time zone; there were many things out there capable of ruining this and I did not want to have this surprise for my friend end in disappointment.

Well the morning arrived, and of course, I was an entire hour off when factoring in the time zone. And with how I had been feeling all through the week, all I wanted to do was not try contacting anybody, and later lying to them saying I had no cell service and then never even telling my friend about the surprise. It would have been the easy way out, and one where my own mistake would have never been noticed but I knew no matter how I felt it would be the wrong decision so I messaged them letting them know I messed up.

And it was okay! Because I am a human and humans make mistakes. And also, because as luck would have it (or more likely divine intervention!) they did still have a few minutes to facetime in. I got to surprise my friend and it made an already significant morning for her so much more meaningful, with her telling me later on it was one of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for her. I am so glad I got to help add to her experience.

The right thing to do here was to exit my comfort zone. It was obvious but I allowed my anxiety about it to fortunately only momentarily, overcomplicate such a simple decision. Exiting my comfort zone over something so small and simple forced me to open my hands and God allowed it to all work out. Opening our hands may not go exactly how we expect or how we initially want, as this example shows, but God will take us in the direction we need to go, and oftentimes it is not even about us. This time, it was all about my friend. Opening or closing our hands can have lasting impacts, and it is important to remember those impacts can be on other people. And as a reader, I challenge you to stop complicating the simple and let God fill those hands of yours. Because God can make the simple meaningful, and not just for you.

If you’re intrigued by this post and looking forward to what I’ll write about in the future, you can expect a new post at some point in the future. Also, if you feel inclined, feel free to leave a comment below about what you think. Thanks for all your support and I hope you’ll come back the next time I post. Stay Amazing!

June 10, 2024

Brace Yourself

One year ago I drove through the desert in a Ford Fusion so packed up I could not see out my back window. After over twelve and a half hours, I then spent another twenty minutes circling an apartment complex trying to find my new building. It was 7pm and 96 degrees out but I was just so excited to finally be in Scottsdale, Arizona instead of Fort Collins Colorado. I was ready to explore, meet new people, go to the gym consistently, kick my depression to the curb, and start a new life. If I could go back in time and tell this version of me anything, all I would say is…

“Brace yourself.”

You can make all of the plans in the world but if they get disrupted, there is not much you can do. With how disrupted my plans were, I may as well have just gotten in my car with nothing and decided to wing it.

My first big disruption was my living situation. The excitement of it all quickly wore off after a week of sleeping on an air mattress before I could get my bed and other furniture put together. Once I had a bed, my only real source of stress in the apartment was having to walk Koda around the complex at night, which as a 5’1 woman, is a little scary, and even more so when my roommate had to call 911 a week after moving in because a block away there was a domestic dispute resulting in some gunfire.

How I wish that had been the only problem.

Two days before the first day of school, five minutes after getting back to my apartment, a puddle began to form on the floor between my room and bathroom. Then water began to gush from my ceiling. Then through the smoke alarm directly outside of my bedroom causing the alarm to sound. Koda did not like that.

The aftermath of a broken toilet on the floor above me led to $2000 in personal damages. My bedding, brand new bed, and mattress were ruined among many other things, though thankfully nothing of sentimental value was ruined and I was there when it happened which meant Koda was okay. But I was back to sleeping on an air mattress. My new plan was to buy a bed after the insurance check came in, but after waiting six weeks I had to just buy one out of pocket. It took six months of constant calls, emails, photo evidence and filing a claim with the state of Arizona to finally get an insurance check that was still $600 less than my damages.

And then came the cockroaches.

A couple who also lived in our building were evicted. I am sure there is an official term for it but I am just going to say it is due to the fact that they were absolutely filthy. My upstairs neighbors watched as people in hazmat suits went into the next door unit bringing out trash bag after trash bag, many filled with the remains of fast food, others with what could only be described to me as “black sludge.” It was a roach’s paradise. But once it was vacated the roaches had to relocate and chose my unit as their new home. There were daily sightings, egg sacs in multiple cabinets, and cheez its were forever ruined for me after reopening the box and pouring those delicious squares plus one cockroach into what was going to be a part of my lunch. It took weeks and me almost getting thrown out of the office by security (long story!) to get our unit sprayed and traps set up.

My lease does not end until September but I found a good deal and moved into a house just last week. One housemate is twice my age and the other one and landlord is eighty five and has plans to live another forty years and I believe if there is anyone who can achieve it, it’s her (we put up drapes on step stools together!) Koda has a yard, and I have yet to see a roach and I am known for being an old soul so this is certainly an upgrade, though paying two rents is not ideal.

The second big disruption was my job. I joined during a season of change for the district and one of their big changes was doing a trimester system. I am somebody who builds relationships slowly and this new system proved challenging, as did some of the class sizes. I will never forget the first day when I had a final class with 39 students, 30 of which were boys. A group decided to pass around a speaker blasting music. Sadly turning it off did not work due to it being bluetooth and as I did not know most of these kids I marched all 39 of them to the office to hand it in. Things stayed a little chaotic throughout the term but definitely improved from that day. But building relationships with such a large class size was tough.

If you thought my apartment flooding was going to be the only flood story, you were mistaken! It all started with water dripping from my classroom ceiling any time it rained (which happens in AZ way more than you’d think!). Well dripping turned into pouring and tiles falling from the ceiling. It eventually got so bad I had to relocate and finish out the school year in a different room a teacher loaned out to me.

I also had courses I never taught before and class periods were 70 minutes long each day so preparing these lessons took up a lot of time. I worked over 65 hours a week that first term, which effectively destroyed my daily gym visits and attempts at having a blossoming social life. Though there was clearly Godly intervention here. My mom’s old friend from college has a brother who lives in Arizona and heard I moved out here. I met him and his wife and they introduced me to their deceased son’s widow, and his best friend, Ryan. We got to know each other over the course of a few months. I then went to their other son’s wedding as his plus one where he was the best man. We have now been together for nearly 8 months.

But back to my job. I really did have great coworkers and superiors and I loved my hooligan students. There were just so many challenges and so much chaos both in school and in my real life that made me realize I could not stay teaching. At the end of July I will be starting a new job as an educational coach for a private company. I will still have students but no more than twelve, they have their own curriculum picked out by their parents and no grading. I am just there to help them and develop their social skills (and yes I see the irony in that!).

My last area of major disruption was finances. Teaching is not a high paying job, especially early on in the career. I was prepared for that. Moving is expensive. I was prepared for that. My rent went up several hundred dollars. I was prepared for that. Koda was not ready to be on his own and had to go to daycare a few days a week. I was prepared for that. Unfortunately I was not prepared for everything else. Obviously my apartment flooding was costly, even with insurance money. My car window seal broke and that was costly. Koda kept having weird medical stuff right after we moved and that was costly. But what really hit me hard was my paycheck.

It turns out different states have different rules regarding teacher pay that I was not aware of. For starters they take out more in Arizona for their retirement system. But what really hit hard was the social security pay. In Colorado, if you work for the public school system or other government jobs you do not pay into social security but that is not the case in Arizona. About $300 a month I did not anticipate was now gone just from that. My overall salary here was $6,000 more than my salary my first year teaching but my monthly pay was somehow $200 less. I was prepared to save less money than I had in Colorado because I knew I was very fortunate with my rent and cost of living situation out there. However, I was not prepared to not be able to save anything at all and sometimes even be forced to dip into my savings.

Getting a second job was not a viable option either. Especially first term with my work load and then after that, I couldn’t do that to Koda. And the summer break here is much shorter and only 8 weeks, so even finding a summer job would have been nearly impossible. It still feels funny to say this was so challenging for me because others struggle and have struggled in ways that go beyond having to live paycheck to paycheck while still having money saved. It was just such a drastic difference and one I was not ready for. But this new job will have higher pay, and less money taken out of it. Plus Koda no longer needs daycare so once the job starts and I am no longer paying two rents, things will get better and I will recover.

This past year had trial after trial. The previous year was a horrible year for my depression while this one was a horrible year for my anxiety. And yet God was with me through them both and I think he is about to calm the storm at least a little. There were a lot of other things that transpired over this last year but I wanted to just stick to the highlights. Through it all I have learned more about what it truly means to be resilient and what it means to give up control because I had none. I am still a planner but I understand God may teach me more things by taking me in a totally different direction and I have to be okay with it. I wonder what the version of me a year from now would tell this version of me. Hopefully not “Brace yourself. Again.” But if it is, I can do it. The Lord is with me.

April 3, 2024

A Rough First Chapter

Last week I decided to write a book. I finished a chapter. Will it actually be chapter one? Will it make it to the final cut? I have no idea. I also have not really gone back and edited this so if it does make it into the final book, it may look different. But I decided posting pieces of my writing while I work will help me stay accountable. So, enjoy!

I do not remember my baptism, but then again, this is true for most Catholics. I do, however, remember finding Mass extremely boring and the communion wine disgusting. At least the wafers were decent enough. Until eighth grade, Catholicism was a significant part of my life. Every Sunday morning consisted of sitting through an hour of mass where everyone would sing out of hymn books and recite creeds I did not understand and a guy named Father Tim in some snazzy robes would talk about things above my young head. Then for the next hour, it was off to Sunday school with kids my age where the teacher, who was usually someone’s mom or dad, would teach us how to be Catholic. There were routines and rules. As a kid I loved and craved structure and this place, while boring, provided it.

The problem is, my experience was that Catholicism was structure without substance.

I am going to take a quick pause in the story. In recent years, Catholicism has re-emerged as a hot topic in recent years and I want to clarify a few things before moving on. I am not writing this to make any sort of accusations against the Catholic Church or speak for the entire system. This is all only based on my personal experiences within the particular church I attended, as well as a few other people, such as my dad and his side of the family, and my boyfriend, among a few others. I do believe based on my experiences a lot of Christians not affiliated with Catholicism have a lot of misconceptions about it, with some even believing Catholics are not “saved” or not “true Christians” (this will come up more later!). In my experience, I do not believe this to be the case. The core of Catholicism is the Gospel, though they have a few traditions different from many other Christian branches and sometimes these traditions and structures are focused on so much and lead to the relational piece to be overshadowed. This is what I mean by it was structure without substance. And… resume!

In my experience, being Catholic meant knowing things and following rules. In Sunday school we learned about some of the (age appropriate) stories in the Bible like Adam and Eve. My sister once had an assignment where she needed to draw the story. As she asked my parents and I for help, my dad let slip a crucial piece of the story her Sunday school class felt five year old children did not need to know; Adam and Eve were originally naked!

I am not sure if my parents let her turn in her ‘more accurate’ drawings and if they did, I do not know how the church responded, however as a seven year old at the time with an impeccable memory, the images of a five year old’s attempt at nude artwork are forever burned into my brain. I will spare you the gruesome details but let’s just say the anatomy was not exactly accurate and even when it got to the scene where Adam and Eve are ashamed and covered themselves with leaves, there were too many ‘parts’ still on proud display.

But I digress.

In addition to some of the Bible, we also learned about some of the saints, mostly ones who were in the Bible such as Mary or Peter. Saint Nicholas was also brought up a lot because Santa Claus! And then there was the time a girl got into a debate with Deacon Ron about Mother Theresea. He said she was not a Saint and the Catholic Church would likely never name her one because of too much controversy. She said she would be a saint someday. On September 4, 2016 I bet Deacon Ron felt awfully silly.

Knowing things mattered, but what seemed to matter more was knowing the rules on how to be Catholic. We learned when to stand, when to sit, when to kneel, when to sing (to be honest I always just pretended!). We memorized the special prayers and creeds and began learning about the other parts of being a Catholic. One of the earliest memories I have of this was learning about the seven sacraments. For those who do not know about Catholicism, they believe there are seven holy sacraments, some of which all Catholics are expected to receive, while some are a special calling or privilege. They are: baptism, reconciliation, communion, confirmation, matrimony, holy orders, and anointing of the sick. This is the typical order in which these take place, but again, not everyone gets all of them and sometimes things can go out of order. For instance anointing of the sick takes place when someone is extremely ill, as in likely going to die soon. The priest annoints them with oil and prays over them. But sometimes people make a recovery and live out the rest of their life. And matrimony only takes place if somebody gets married and holy orders is when someone joins the clergy. In Catholicism, only Deacons, who are basically the assistant to the priest, can marry so most people only experience one of these two sacraments.

Baptism typically takes place shortly after birth because many Catholics believe being baptized is a necessary ticket into Heaven so if somebody dies unbaptized they are out. They do not necessarily go to Hell if they are young or never heard the gospel though. They end up in Purgatory, which is sort of seen as this inbetween or limbo. It is not necessarily bad but it also is not where someone wants to be. As a seven year old learning about these things, I remember wondering why God would make not getting dunked in water keep a baby out of Heaven, but as I already stated, I craved rules and structure so I went with it. Besides, I was safe!

We spent a lot of time in second grade learning about reconciliation, which is when a person goes into a special little area the size of a closet and tells the priest what sins they committed and then the priest tells them what their penance is. It all felt so serious and formal but I also never really understood why kneeling and saying two Hail Marys would make God forgive me for getting into a fight with my sister, but again, I went with it. Communion came next and was a huge event. We spent weeks going over and practicing how to receive the bread, which was just some flavorless little wafer, and the wine. For the wafer we would go up to the priest and could either hold out our hands in a special way or receive it on our tongue, which when you are seven feels way too silly and I knew I would not be able to do it without laughing so I opted for the hands. Then it was to the wine cup where the deacon would hold it out to drink from and then wipe it and rotate it for the next person.

The wine scared me far more than the wafer because as a child I was incredibly picky, to the point where my parents worried I had some kind of eating disorder. I kept telling them I was worried about gagging in front of everyone from the wine so they had an idea; how about you practice here at home? So my dad handed me the glass he had been drinking with dinner and I anxiously took a gulp. My mom always jokes about how she will never forget the face I made when the taste hit my tongue. She did not see it for long though because I had to beeline to the kitchen sink to profusely rinse out my mouth. Over the next few weeks, I tried a few more times and slowly got a little better.

When the morning finally arrived, I got all dressed up. The boys wore suits and ties while the girls wore these white dresses and when I look back at photos now, all I can think of is how I looked like a child bride with all of the decorative beading. When it was time, our class all got in line with me somewhere in the middle. The wafer took me by surprise because it was awfully dry and got stuck to the roof of my mouth but there was no time to do anything about it. I got my sip of wine, which was much sweeter than whatever my parents gave me, but I still was not a fan. I at least managed to keep my composure and it helped the wafer go down. Thankfully after it all my dad told me from then on, the wine was not required and I could skip it. I did not understand why taking only part of the sacrament still counted but I was not about to question God or the church on this one.

Confirmation typically comes next. This takes place in 8th grade for most people and is essentially a declaration of faith. My dad told my sister and I about how he did this when he was younger and about his experiences as an altar boy and how when they were done serving, he and his friends always chugged the remaining wine and never got caught. I was always appalled by this because of how gross I found the wine. But back to confirmation, I never did this one. In eighth grade, we stopped going to the Catholic Church. For about six months we just went nowhere. On the one hand, I was happy to be free getting up to go to boring Mass but at the same time, it felt like something was missing. But then again, my church experience never really seemed completely fulfilling.

Looking back now, I understand why it felt unfulfilling. As I mentioned earlier, in my experience, Catholicism was structure without substance. Sure I learned the routines and learned about the stories and about the people, but there was no relationship. Knowing about God is not the same as knowing God. In college I heard a sermon where the pastor compared it to our interactions with the President. We can look up all of the facts about the President but if we show up to the White House unannounced it will likely not go over well. Knowing their birthday or favorite color is not the same as having a personal relationship with them. And with God, we need the relationship piece and there are ways to cultivate it. In eighth grade however, I did not understand this relational absence yet. The only absence I noticed at the time at church was my mom’s.

July 22, 2023July 22, 2023

Beach Elegy

She lays there on the beach

Sea can only wash away so much

Navy skin cracks from sand

Eyes gaze upon the shore

Recognizing nothing

Until she hears them.

The same yells from before

Knowing not the language but

Still receiving a message

Of warning

I am my father’s daughter

Her body stays ashore

But her mind returned to the day water first turned red.

In one ear and out the other

The arrow went

Out of the ocean and into the floating steel

The yells of before as they sailed away with him

She was left behind in the sea

Now on land surrounded by them

And the flashing rectangles

While air and water depart from her head.

More of them arrive

Bucket filled arms and hands guiding a machine

The yells do not cease

She wishes to leave but cannot move her flippers

Let alone flap her tail

Barnacles are begging for relief

Her vision blurs

But her memories are clear

Of the day she was left behind in the sea.

She watched the floating steel leave

Turning away she began to swim

Alone and with nowhere to go

A splash from the corner of her eye

Brought loneliness to an end

The one in the splash was left behind by those on the floating steel

With black and blue marked skin

With roped wrists rubbed raw

With tied legs unable to kick and a gagged mouth unable to speak

The fatherless and helpless one saw the end;

She saw the beginning

With skin no longer black and blue

With ropes releasing restored wrists

With legs conjoined by scales

And with a mouth possessing an angelic voice

The start of an unlikely friendship

Because invisible scars do not heal

Angelic voice steered the floating steels

While the fatherless made the ones who yell

Turn the water red.

On the beach the saltwater

Washes across her body

The ones who yell with buckets

Run to and from the sea

Yet her body weakens and her confusion strengthens

The ones who yell were not the ones who yelled

They are ones who try to help

Her lungs ache from her body’s weight

Her heart aches from a different weight.

Buckets pour and the machine roars

She worries she does not deserve it

After the actions of her and her angelic voice friend

She wonders if the ones they used to turn the water red

Were like these ones or the ones from before

Her wisdom grows with a provoking thought

Hurting someone hurts you more than them

Regardless of who they are.

The machine loses its grip

Barnacles relax in the shallow water

She recognizes fear in the ones who yell

Past her inspired fear

Though now she knows its price tag

Her mind leaves the shore

Travels until it resides with her angelic voice friend.

She wants to tell her

There are good ones who yell

Deep down she wonders if her friend

Already knew but forgot

After all minds must warp to give hate a room

She is in the water but longs to see her dad.

She lays there on the beach

Sea can only wash away so much

Navy skin cracks from sand

Eyes gaze upon the shore

Recognizing nothing

June 8, 2023

Treasures in Heaven

There are few careers offering the same trials and rewards as teaching. One unique aspect of teaching is how one of the worst parts is so intertwined with the best part – the relationships. Over the past three years I have met, gotten to know, taught, and cared for over 200 people. Over the past three years I have also said goodbye to over 200 people who once occupied a desk in my classroom, a classroom I know longer have since I am moving away to Arizona where I will have a new classroom full of new students where this process will begin again. After all, history does repeat itself.

But this post is not about my move. Actually, it’s about treasure!

Treasure is typically seen as something worldly, as something with monetary value. And with this framing, the passage in the Bible below was one I struggled to understand because I interpreted it way too literally.

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” – Matthew 6:19-21

The last part I always understood; you love what you value. (Fun side note, this part of the passage appears in the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows!) And therefore it is important not to value worldly things as much as Godly things. But the concept of treasures in Heaven always confused me – what do I need treasures in Heaven for? I’m in Heaven! I understood the building of the treasures is doing good things on Earth but I found myself struggling to see how this computed to some sort of reward in Heaven. Regardless of my deeds on Earth, our salvation is through accepting God’s sacrifice of Jesus. So why would anything I do lead to something ‘extra’ in Heaven and what would it even be? Again, it’s Heaven, it’s already amazing!

A few weeks ago, I finally figured out what my treasure in Heaven will be. And as you could likely predict, it isn’t something of monetary value. This discovery came about primarily due to the events of a high school graduation party, one I originally did not plan to attend but somehow ended up at anyway.

Five senior grads I taught were there. At the end of the evening it was time to say goodbye. I went down the line, telling them each my favorite memory of them and some parting advice. The things I told to each of them will not be written on this posting – those words are for them and they may tell others about it if they wish but it is not for me to put it out into the open. One had to leave before it was all over but otherwise, it quickly became a very emotional and tear filled experience for the remaining four. It is hard for students and teachers alike to go from seeing one another for hours every week and then it just ceases. Usually with this sort of goodbye, a student will be sad but rationalizes the situation because they tell themselves they will come back to visit. But as I teacher, I know while a few do return, many don’t and even those who do typically only return once or very sparingly before eventually stopping altogether. And this time because of my move, former students of mine no longer have this option so they realize how permanent this goodbye is.

As a teacher you spend your time watching kids grow up. You see them in some of their highest moments and some of their lowest. Certainly, it is up to me to make sure they learn my subject, but I also do what I can to help them prepare for their futures, and help them become better people. Before my eyes they learn and grow and I’m overjoyed just to be there to see it. And then one day they are just gone, a desk becomes empty before being filled by someone new and the process starts again. Yet, every time I am left wondering what impact did I make? Did I make an impact at all? This is the true plight of teaching. For the rest of my life, I will never truly know the outcome of my work, or the impact I made on someone.

But standing on the driveway with those grads, I got a glimpse. It’s as if there’s this giant mural all covered up and I got to take a quick peek at one of the corners. It was more breath taking than a sunset, more exciting than the best rollercoaster, more fulfilling than cold water on a hot day. All of this from one little glimpse. As I stood in the driveway while one of them spoke to me, I had a sudden realization which I shared with them and now will share with those who are still reading.

While I do not preach my faith in school, many students share their beliefs with me and anytime a students asks if I believe in anything I do tell them I am a Christian. I knew this particular group of former students are strong in their faith and they also knew I am a Christian too. Which is why the true beauty of this moment was not the wonderful glimpse I saw of the impact I made on them. The true beauty, was knowing this goodbye would not be permanent. I will see them, and a good chunk of my other students again someday, even if it isn’t in this lifetime. In Heaven, God will reveal the entire mural to me and this group of students and many others will eventually be there and get to tell me about the impact I made and how their lives turned out. They will be able to go into the kind of detail they either won’t have the time or the words for in this life.

Now I understand how one can have treasure in Heaven.

There were many other incredible goodbyes during my last week teaching at Highland. I got a handcrafted wooden wand and stand from two students, Harry Potter merch and Reese’s from another and some cheese from another. I was confided in about some sad things by one and another wrote me a note telling me I was the reason they they developed a newfound passion for theology and had decided to begin reading the Bible again after years of negative religious experiences. Most goodbyes were quite simple and left a mystery as to how or if I made an impact at all. But these mysteries will eventually be treasures. How or why God has chosen to use someone as simple and flawed as me to teach others and to be the recipient of something so wonderful is something says a lot about how He loves. My treasures are really His and I am grateful just to be a part of it.

Teaching for now at least, is my calling and I am excited to see where it takes me next. But for now I will end this with one word representing a Godly trait embodied those five grads from the party in the order of which I said goodbye to them. Creative. Loyal. Humble. Servant. Joyful.

July 22, 2022July 22, 2022

Don’t Quit Drugs Kids

Yes, this may be a misleading or overly dramatic title. But it got you here! Now before I explain my brutal past two weeks and why I am writing on here after a year, I need to establish a few things:

It can be okay to quit drugs.
It can be okay to use drugs prescribed from a doctor.
Everyone is different and what works well for one person may harm another.
I recently got a puppy – his name is Koda and he is adorable.

So, what happened to me and why am I talking about drugs?

Well, as someone who has been saved by Christ and will eventually go to heaven, there is a good chance the past two weeks are among my closest encounters to hell I will ever experience. However, the story begins about seven months ago.

I often view my anxiety as my version of Paul’s thorn in the side. But last fall the thorn began to feel more like a dagger. After years of stubbornness, I decided to give medication a try. Lots of people are prescribed things to help them with mental illness and while I understood a drug would not cure me, I hoped it would at least lessen things enough to help me function. I still believed (and still do believe!) God has not taken away my anxiety in its entirety because it means I have to rely on Him, but I also believe He has created the chemicals and minds of doctors to help people like me who struggle, cope a little better.

I joined an online therapy center where I had a counselor to check in with on a monthly basis and a medical prescriber to work with me on getting the proper medication. I took my first pill a few days before Christmas and… nothing happened. These types of drugs typically take up to six weeks to actually work so this was not a surprise. I was also warned by my prescriber I could experience nausea and trouble sleeping. I now know there were many other side effects they should have warned me about but did not, but those details will come later. However, I was ‘lucky’ in that I had no side effects. Unfortunately, even after six weeks, there were no positive effects either. It was like I was taking nothing.

This is normal – people often don’t find the right medication on the first try so I got prescribed a new one. The same thing happened but I stayed on it a few extra weeks. Then my prescriber quit and I got a new one who tried increasing my dosage but nothing happened. Meanwhile, my counselor was extremely difficult to make appointments so I was not talking to her regularly.

In mid June, I tried medication number three. And once again, nothing. To make matters worse, I found out my counselor had been on a long term leave of absence since May but for some reason I never got an email notification or a notification through the app even though I was messaged about it. I began to feel discouraged because nothing was working and everyone was hard to contact. By this point, I felt as if I just threw hundreds of dollars into the trash can.

Two weeks ago, I decided to be done. The service was not meeting my needs, I spent a lot of money, and none of the medications I tried had done anything. I was only on the third medication for about four weeks. My prescriber never had me do any sort of taper to transition from one drug to the next since they had not been in my system long enough for me to develop a dependency. I messaged my team in the app and let them know I would no longer be using their services and that was that. Using the same logic my prescriber had when having me switch medications, I stopped taking my most recent medication cold turkey.

A terrible decision. And even worse, because it was a decision made where I was not properly informed.

For about two weeks now, I have been experiencing withdrawal symptoms and only finally began to improve two days ago. At first everything was fine. For about two days I had now symptoms. Then began incurable nausea that only worsened when I tried to eat. Even toast or bland crackers caused agony. I could not spend more than five minutes at a time scrolling through my phone without feeling extremely ill, let alone get any kind of work done to prepare for next school year on a computer. I experienced dizzy spells. I began getting brain zaps where your brain essentially feels like it’s been reset with an electric jolt. I got hot flashes which exacerbated my other symptoms. All of these things worsened whenever I moved around so I was confined to the couch in my parent’s living room (I have been living in my parent’s house because my previous lease ended and my next one doesn’t begin for another week!). The time I should have spent bonding and raising my new puppy was instead spent with me laying on the couch, sometimes sobbing because I felt like I was going to die.

Last weekend I had a couple of hours where I began to feel a little better. But that’s when the tremors began. When I got the brain zaps my head would often twitch. On this day this began happening to my left arm. In a matter of an hour, my left arm was out of control, moving wildly even without the brain zaps. Sometimes it would flap, other times I would accidentally hit myself. I could not hold anything in my left hand for fear it would either drop or get flung across the room. And then my left leg started behaving similarly. And all of my other symptoms returned in full force.

This was scary enough to get me to go to urgent care where thankfully they reassured me I was going to be fine. But they also told me it was wrong to quit cold turkey and should have tapered, but since I had gone a week I should just keep fighting through because it may not be worth trying to get back on the drug. The nurse especially acted like I was thoughtless in choosing to stop the drug cold turkey. Like I should have known better. It’s true, I should have known better, but to have known better, I should have been informed better.

None of the drugs I took caused side effects. None of my switches from one drug to the next caused drug withdrawal. My prescriber did not even message me back when I said I was ending the service with any kind of warning about what could happen by quitting or with a suggestion to taper off the drug slowly. Upon more research and personal experience, I now know better, but for me it is a little too late. I know now how terrible not tapering can be even after only a month of usage. I now know withdrawal from a prescription drug can actually take several weeks, even months for some and that people can still experience symptoms of withdrawal even when they tapper and that some people have to spend a year tapering. I now know upon further research, the drugs I took included possible side effects of seizures, thoughts of suicide, and have even been linked to kidney failure. I now know the things a medical professional should have told me at the start of my journey for me to have actually given my informed consent.

And yet, it is I who paid the price (literally and metaphorically).

How am I doing now? Better than I was but still not all the way recovered. My arm is better, I can use my laptop without feeling extremely ill. There are now a handful of things I can eat without becoming nauseous. I have lost around seven pounds (which at my height and in such a short time is significant and harmful) and since I still cannot eat many foods and in adequate quantities, I may continue to lose more weight. My body is still out of whack to the point where my heart rate goes over 100bpm just carrying a load of laundry up the stairs. Yesterday I finally went on a big adventure – walking down my street and back which had my heart rate way up and increased my nausea for a few hours. But my head feels clear again, and I can at least type things and scroll through my phone again.

Mentally, I am thankful to be finally turning a corner and thankful I was at my parent’s when this happened because they could help me with Koda. I am also glad I chose to stop when I did because if this happened while on the job as a teacher, it would have been a disaster, because again, I may have experienced symptoms even with trying to taper. While this was nowhere near the same as a drug addiction, I now see why people often relapse during a withdrawal, especially when it comes to prescription drugs. I am struggling with feeling shame for not knowing better than to quit the way I did, even though I was not informed properly. I am struggling with feeling shame for getting so sick and having to depend on others, even though it was not my fault. And after going through this, I likely will not be trying any other medications to help my anxiety so I am also experiencing the defeat that comes with knowing there is yet another option taken away from helping me get better. I understand having it helps me in some ways and it is a great thorn in my side to aid me in relying on God. I just hoped medication would ensure it remained a thorn instead of occasionally growing into a dagger.

We see the reports about the issues stemming from recreational drugs all the time, but I rarely see anything about prescription drugs even though they have led to more addictions and more deaths than any of the recreational one. The current opioid crisis in America is real, and much of it originates from legal means.

Going back to those bullets from earlier, some people do need to take these drugs to function properly and not everyone is going to go through what I did. I am not anti-doctor or anti-prescriptions or any other radical notion. I am however, of the belief I was not informed of the possible ramifications of taking or quitting these drugs and I am of the belief many others are also not aware. I am of the belief doctors need to ensure their patients are informed of what can happen by starting AND stopping a prescription, even if they do it the ‘approved way’ which for my particular drug, I actually learned they have no official tapering process and it is actually up to the medical professionals to just give it their best shot when advising a patient.

At the moment, I never want to touch a prescription drug again if I can help it and I will likely struggle with feelings of distrust towards medical professionals I seek out in the future. Certainly, the medical industry has come far over the years (I took my mom and grandmother to see Elvis shortly before I stopped my medication and wow have we made some improvements to meds since then!) However, my experience and my new knowledge on what some of these prescriptions can do have made me feel wary. Ultimately, what is best for you and what works for you is going to be different than what works best for me. Whatever you decide when it comes to your health and medications, make sure you are informed – ask your doctor questions and do research. I hope in writing this, that perhaps I will help prevent something like this from happening to someone else, because I would not wish what I went through or any of my residual feelings of shame or my feeling of mistrust towards such an important field on anybody.

July 19, 2021

How God Has Transformed Me on My Fitness Journey

Before diving in, this is a warning to proceed to read at your own discretion because the following writing delves into issues around body image and unhealthy relationships with food and exercise. Also, God is good, and I am grateful for the growth and healing I have recently experienced and hope to continue.

Leaving a sport is a right of passage for many and yet when my 13-year-old self stepped off the spring floor at gymnastics practice for the final time, she was not ready for what would come. At this point, I was in incredible physical shape. Beating all the high school boys in push-up contests and hollow holds and being called ‘Beast’ by the PE teacher filled me with pride. Having a 6-pack didn’t hurt either. Prior to quitting gymnastics, it is safe to say I would have been in the top 5 percentile of physical fitness (outside of running, but more on that later…) for people my age.

The months wrapping up 8^th grade and transitioning into high school left me feeling directionless. I loved gymnastics but the time it took up, the way it was beginning to damage my body (still have wrist and back issues to this day) and the emotional damage from a coach who, to put it gently, was an unkind and arrogant man who would lie, and try to manipulate myself and other teammates, while still finding the time to leave during practice and return to spot us reeking of cigarettes. As the oldest girl on our team, I did my best to lead and protect the other girls, but eventually I emotionally and physically burned out. So I left. I no longer went to a gym 12 hours a week with one hour per practice being solely dedicated to conditioning.

After leaving, my 4’6 and flat chested self finally began the process of puberty previously likely halted by the extent of my physical activity. 6 months after quitting, I was about to begin high school at 4’11, actually needing a bra, and gaining about 25 pounds, though I can assure you, at this time, I still had my visible 6-pack. I also joined my high school cheer team that summer, or should I say, was coerced into joining my high school cheer team that summer. Practices were 2 hours long, 4 days a week, not including games, and while there certainly was physical activity, it paled in comparison to what I experienced with gymnastics. And so, my body kept changing. That year, I grew another inch, got my period, and gained about 15 more pounds. My muscles became a little less defined (RIP 6-pack!), but I still looked thin and athletic. For the rest of high school, this is how I looked. Today, this is how I view my past self but back then, I did not see myself as thin and athletic.

This transition was already difficult enough but then I underwent several traumatic experiences which warped my mind and having an undiagnosed anxiety disorder likely did not help. I will not be going into specifics on what these experiences were here, because I am still not ready to be fully public with that information and I do not desire to throw shame towards anyone involved. Feel free to reach out to me privately, if you are curious, and I may be willing to enlighten you a little. Bottom line, some really bad things happened and I saw myself as overweight, unattractive, and undeserving of any kind of love.

This began to manifest in a lot of ways, but one area in particular was food. As a child I was an extremely picky eater (I have mostly grown out of this luckily) and I began to feel ashamed about this and about how I thought it was impacting my body. My sophomore year, I began to hide certain foods and eat them privately, fearful of judgement. A cycle, which can only be described as ‘torturous’ began my junior year of high school. I began coaching powder puff cheer (which was truly a highlight of my time in high school, if any of the guys involved are reading this, you all really made it such a blast!) We had the practices during lunch, which is why it became so easy to start this cycle. I began skipping breakfast. And I began skipping lunch because it was so easy to pretend I ate it quickly to make it to practice. Then the rest of the school day would go by and then by time I got home from cheer, it would be 6 pm and I ‘successfully’ would have gone nearly the whole day without eating. I would eat a small dinner to not raise any suspicions and then repeat the whole process again the next day. This would go on for about a week or two, but then the hunger would feel so intense and so I would cave and binge for a few days, typically on the unhealthy foods I felt too afraid to eat in front of others. As a result, guilt and shame would flow through me, and I feared it made me ‘fatter,’ so then I would punish myself again through the starvation technique.

This cycle continued through the start of college. It was impossible to do the full extent of this cycle with the setup of the dining halls where I often ate with other people. So I did a ‘lesser version’ of it. At this point, my primary physical activity was just walking to classes on campus, which were quite far apart with a lot of stairs so I never gained weight. My problem, well one of my many problems, was I had no idea how to work out and was too scared to ask anyone. The kind of stuff I did to exercise in gymnastics didn’t fully translate to a gym and my injuries also caused some issues. Plus, by this point, the idea of going to a gym when I was no longer super in shape felt way too intimidating. Being too anxious to go to the gym was just one more thing I could add to the list of reasons to hate myself.

The end of my first year of college had me at an all-time low, again, for reasons I will not get into here, and over the summer, it only got worse. I felt trapped and alone; ashamed of my body and ashamed of what I was doing to it. I was also ashamed of how I had stopped trying to pursue God and resolved to do so when I returned to college in the fall. And praise be to God, that I finally listened to that call from Him, because I recommitted myself to Christ that school year and began to heal and experience spiritual growth.

Unfortunately, even with God, everything usually does not get better overnight. My sophomore year I did stop the part of the cycle involved in starving myself – for the most part, there were still slip ups. I tried going to my apartment gym, but that was short lived. All I really knew how to do was use the treadmill and even at my best, running has always been a weakness of mine. I felt like I wasn’t accomplishing anything and even though I tried to go to the gym when no one would be there, people still came in and the anxiety was just too much for me so I stopped.

The following year, I found a YouTube channel called Blogilates which had a workout calendar with Pilates videos to follow so I began doing that which helped me get into better shape, and since I could do it in the privacy of my own room, I felt safe. There were still some setbacks, such as living in an apartment with downstairs neighbors who I didn’t want to disturb and some old gymnastics injuries and not a lot of space even for someone as small as me to spread out in, so the workouts were extremely modified. But I was proud to be doing something. I also improved a little with cooking some healthier meals, but the eating unhealthy food in secret continued. Over the summer, I stayed in Fort Collins and found a trail and fell in love with it. I would hike it about 5 days a week and used it as a way to spend time with God. I fell even more in love with Him as a result of seeing the beautiful mountain scenery, and those moments where there were no other people in sight and the deer would appear around me. It felt as though God brought them there just for me. It felt as though I could be loved after all. I was not all better, but I was getting better. The summer of 2018 and this particular hiking trail will be forever associated with God’s love for me and the literal strides taken towards healing.

The following year, I kept working out consistently, and my unhealthy food hiding remained the unchanged secret no one knew about. Going into the spring of 2019, however, new issues arose. Due to a number of incidents occurring my spring semester, again unmentioned here, I fell into a major depressive spiral, which lasted through November. God felt far away and the love I felt from my previous hikes with Him seemed non-existent, and of course this coincided with doing a Summer Mission in Rhode Island. There was no room where I lived that summer to workout, and I got even craftier about how to secretly eat certain foods. Many other challenges arose during my time in Rhode Island, though there were highlights too. By the time I returned to Fort Collins to go into my final year of school, I was in another low place in my life. I tried to go back to the trail from before reconnect with God, but became so distraught, that I couldn’t finish and I failed to get back into the workout videos. All seemed bleak and hopeless, but God revealed Himself to me many times in unexpected ways such as my practicum at the local high school, and even more oddly, through writing a paper for my capstone history class about water in the west (but that is a story for another post!).

I began doing better mentally and spiritually as I went into my final semester of college and student teaching. I felt ready to begin trying to workout again with the videos from Blogilates. All seemed well, and then the pandemic happened, essentially cutting off my college and student teaching experiences unexpectedly early. But after everything else I had gone through, I felt relatively okay during it all and my relationship with God actually got better and when things did get to be too much, I just went on walks where I could reconnect with Him. Unfortunately, by the time I felt ready to try my hike again, Colorado was basically on fire everywhere so the air pollution got to the point where going outdoors did not seem like a great idea.

It was also around this time, I gained a little weight. Even though it wasn’t enough to be particularly noticeable or even change my clothing size, this felt devastating. As a rule, I do not own a scale. Some of my traumatic experiences in high school revolved around the number on the scale. The number often triggered my periods of starvation back then, and sometimes when I end up in a situation where I am weighed, it can be challenging to refrain from going back to that. Thus, discovering my “quarantine/starting a job teaching where I am exhausted all the time weight gain” was brutal. It actually demotivated me from working out. But I did finally confide in some people about what I was doing with food, including my counselor. And bringing my secret to the light helped a lot. In fact, I have gone about 7 months without actively hiding food.

At the start of this summer, I still felt insecure. I actually decided to take up running in the hopes it would make me “look better” than the Pilates videos were. I quit the running two weeks ago. Turns out I still despise running; I lacked any sort of enjoyment from it. And it was actually causing me a lot of pain – like the bad, injury-inducing kind. And I was not “looking any better” despite 6 weeks of consistent effort. It looked like I would be hitting another low point, but then God showed me something wonderful.

About a month ago, for the first time since 8^th grade, I saw myself without makeup on and I liked my face. A few days ago, I looked at my body in the mirror, ready to criticize myself, as I always do, and in fact had been doing especially brutally recently, but I just… didn’t do it. I can’t say I looked at my body and loved it, but I did look at my body, and not hate it, in fact, I didn’t even dislike it! It’s as if God is beginning to reveal to me how He sees me. He loves my face and He loves my body because He made them Himself! His love for me does not change when I gain or lose weight and He did not stop loving me when I lost my 6-pack, or when I made the bad decisions against my body or when I myself hated my body.

This whole time, I have been free but only now, do I truly feel free. It’s as though a prison guard opened my jail cell door years ago when I began to follow God, but I only now tried to walk out. I am working out by using the YouTube channel again and this time it is because I want to exercise for fun, just like gymnastics was. Back then I loved feeling sore, and it is empowering to feel excited by this again! Today, I finally, returned to the hike and made it to the top and God was there with me.

My journey is far from over – I am still too nervous to step foot in a gym or workout with other people, though I am hopeful I can get to a place where I can do it. Today though, I am finally confident in who I am, inside and out. I used to push others away, fearing if they got too close they would see me the way I saw me, but now I know others can love me, the authentic me. I love me; I am worthy of love because God who is love Himself loves me. He loves you in this way too, dear reader, never forget that. Praise God for helping me to finally remember.

June 25, 2021

Redecorate

I am redecorating the new classroom I moved into for the upcoming school year. It’s a pretty normal thing to do. Today I went to Home Depot to get some dark blue paint samples for my accent wall. It’s a pretty normal thing to do. Then I went to JoAnn Fabrics to look at some possible options for covering my bulletin boards. It’s a pretty normal thing to do. Then, I spent about 6 hours panicking over what would happen if I pick the wrong shade of blue and what if the gold stars I want to paint on my accent wall look bad, and also what if I decide on the wrong fabric or the wrong curtain for my window and mess up the contact paper for my shelves and my desk and what if my decorations look bad and nothing matches and everything looks terrible and what a waste of money that would be and why am I terrible at everything? This is not a normal thing to do, and yes, I realize this was a terrible run-on sentence.

My brain lives on run-on sentences like the one above and they are not normal, though to be fair “normal” is not real anyway (but that is a subject for another post!). There are many things about my brain I only discovered in recent years are not normal. For example, during my first year of college, I discovered it did not take most people over an hour to fall asleep every night. I also learned most people do not plan every outfit they are going to wear a week in advance, with back-up options because of Colorado’s unpredictable weather. For the past year I have been going to the same church and I still get nervous before going in, as if it’s my first time there. This was also the case with my Cru weekly meetings during college; almost 4 years’ worth. Definitely not normal.

I have other examples of strange happenings in my brain, such as the time it took me over 30 minutes to experience Taco Bell for the first time via a Doritos Locos Taco because I was so worried about not liking it, or the times as a child (we’re talking starting around age 6) where I would panic – tears and everything, anytime I was running late. My senior year of high school, I was in AP Psychology and we all took an anxiety assessment used by psychologists and I got one of the highest scores in the entire class – a 29, 12 was the average. I could go on, but you get the idea. None of this is normal, unless you have an anxiety disorder, which I do. My counselor who I have been seeing for the last year confirmed these suspicions and also believes I have depression and a “mild” form of PTSD.

I know my examples of the way my anxiety manifests in me are silly, plenty of people have laughed at me over the years during these moments. I am aware the shade of blue I pick will not ruin my classroom, and regardless of my classroom’s aesthetics, my students will learn just fine. I know redecorating should just be fun. Knowing I get worked up over such “trivial” matters makes it worse because I experience a lot of shame when it happens and when I am unable to stop it. Lots of well-intentioned Christians I know and Christian authors I don’t know say worrying and anxiety is a sin because it represents a lack of trust in God. They bring up the words used repetitively in the Bible “Be not afraid” or the ever so famous passage in 1 Peter 5:7

“Cast all your anxiety on Him [God] because He cares for you.”

People are quick to say we need to erase the stigma around mental illness and how important it is to love those who are struggling with mental health, but many of those same people are also quick to say people like me are trapped in this “sin” and if we would just trust God, we’d have peace in our hearts or something similar. But it is more difficult than that. My brain is overproducing or underproducing some sort of chemical. I go to counseling. I do things despite my fears – I am always outside my comfort zone. And I love God and I do trust Him and have shown this because I have followed Him and His desires for me and all the while felt afraid. And I always will because there is no cure for my disorder. It will be with me until I die.

A lifetime of mental illness (and other life struggles I will not be getting into at this time) takes its toll on a person. There were times where I wanted to make some irreversible decisions because it felt like this would be the only way to get my brain to stop making run-on sentences. But I never went through with it. 21 Pilots recently came out with a song called “Redecorate” and the chorus explains how I felt during the lowest points of my life quite well and why I didn’t go through with anything bad. Give it a listen sometime.

I am in a much better place now though, primarily thanks to God and the joy He brings even from bad things as I continue to put my trust in Him. The Harry Potter series also gets a huge shoutout, a few months back I even got the Hogwarts skyline tattooed on my arm with a semi-colon to represent what that series has gotten me through. Everyone who has cared for me over the years and my counselor have also been helpful. And my time teaching is continuing to be used by God to bring lots of joy into my life by helping others too.

It hasn’t exactly been a secret that I have anxiety, though this is the most I’ve really publicly shared, but I felt it was time. Lots of other people struggle with mental health and my hope is that this can provide some acknowledgement of that and maybe even help in removing part of the stigma. My hope is to also kindly remind people that mental illness is not a sin, in fact I and others like myself are actively choosing to follow God in spite of our untypical brain chemistry. I am a sinner, we all are sinners, but mental illnesses such as anxiety should not be the thing people point to as sin. There are plenty of other things I do that you can call out in my life as sin. Sin is a choice; a mental illness is not. Certainly, people should not use a disorder as an excuse for bad behaviors, however, the disorder itself is not a sin. Mental illness is stigmatized enough already; please don’t add to this, or better yet, see what you can do to help combat the stigma.

May 24, 2021May 24, 2021

The Class of 2021

Today, exactly 6 years ago I graduated high school. Today approximately 9 hours ago, I watched my first set of high school seniors graduate and I couldn’t be more proud of them. A lot can happen in 6 years, but this post is not going to be about all of that. Maybe some day I will write one about how much I have changed.

On my seniors last official day of class, I gave them each a handwritten note, a chocolate bar with a customized wrapper – which had a Golden Ticket inside giving them permission to finally find out my political views – they have been dying to know all year! I also read a few words I put together. Below are those words. I wanted to document this here (on a blog I inconsistently post on and not very many people read…) in the hopes it can bring some sort of meaning to anyone who stumbles across it, or in case my former students discover this blog and simply need some encouragement. Hopefully there will be more posting over the summer since things will be a LOT less hectic for me. And to any former students of mine reading this just remember: I am proud of you, I believe in you, and if you ever reach out or visit me, it would truly be an honor – just now I will still use all of my weird sayings because “it’s a whole thing” so “do with that what you will.”

To my Graduating Seniors of 2021,

We all entered this school year feeling uncertain. A school year always begins with uncertainty; who will be in your classes, will you get along with your teachers, which classes will be the hardest, and so on. But this year, all of us, myself included, were burdened with additional uncertainties such as will there be sports, or a prom, or a graduation, will I get quarantined, and even will we get to stay in-person?

In the beginning, I had my doubts about us remaining open. Everyday I thought this would be the day there would be one too many sick staff members, or this would be the day the government would announce a closure. One month. I hoped we would have at least one month together before being shut down. And somehow, all these months later, here we still are. With each passing day, my heart filled with gratitude because I never thought I would get so many of these days with each of you.

You all have so much to be proud of. And this would remain true even if there had never been a pandemic. Pandemic or not, every year there are people who for one reason or another never graduate high school. Throughout your time at Highland, you have seen people in your grade go out the front door and never come back. But you stayed and you finished. This ability to persevere through tough challenges and become a stronger person is called resilience; a trait which is essential to succeeding throughout the rest of your life.

Now the time has come for you to enter a new life stage. Transitions can be tough and so can closures, though you all are certainly capable of handling both. The amount of growth I witnessed from all of you during this year was truly astonishing. You all became better workers, better learners, and above all better people. At the start of the year I told you all I hoped this class would help you to grow in those ways and I’d like to think it played a small part in your growth. But in reality, you all are the ones responsible for your success.

People often claim teaching is a thankless job but I think it is full of gifts if you know where to look. Joy and thanksgiving often appear in the little things all of you do for and with me each day, whether it’s saying hi, joking around (though maybe some of you do this part a little too much!), asking insightful questions, getting passionate about certain issues, and just filling me in on parts of your lives as you transition into adulthood.

Supposedly, the first class a teacher has is especially hard to say goodbye to, but saying goodbye to all of you is not hard because you all are first; it is hard because of who you all are. The pain I feel regarding our time coming to an end is a blessing because it attests to how special you all are. Teachers say they forget a lot of their students over the years, but I cannot imagine forgetting any of you. Even if I do forget you one day, it doesn’t change the fact that I care about each of you very much, even though of course, I dislike you all equally.

My college admissions essay reflected on the life my grandfather lived and what he went through as a result of Alzheimer’s disease. Because of this disease’s potential to pass down through generations, it made me realize there is a real possibility I could one day forget everything I will accomplish in my life, just like he, and so many others have. This includes my time with all of you. But it also might not happen, and even if my memory fades one day, whether it’s the result of a disease, or simply the natural aging process, it’s not something to worry about. Because me possibly forgetting something doesn’t mean it never happened. And just because I may not remember, doesn’t mean others will forget. So even though I may forget you, I hope you remember me.

I hope you remember me not out of my own self-interest or vanity. I hope you remember me because remembering me means remembering there is always someone out there who believes in you and who wants nothing but the best for you. I hope you remember me in the difficult times, when you want to quit, so that you realize giving up on yourself is not what you are meant to do because I know you are capable of resiliency. I hope you remember me during the best times of your life and when you achieve something amazing because I always knew you could do it.

I am so proud of all of you already, but I am even more proud of what you will do, or even more importantly, who you will become, and I hope to hear from you about it down the road. To end this before things get even more touchy feely and sappy, I will miss you all, and I wish you the best of luck, so do with that what you will.

January 2, 2021

My God Questions

Despite being born into a Christian household (though technically starting off as Catholic), my own relationship with God did not truly become a priority until my second year of college and I only read the entire Bible for the first time back in 2018. This year I once again intend to read the Bible, this time in chronological order throughout this year. And no, this is not some New Years Resolutions nonsense; I intend to actually follow through with it, just as I did in 2018.

This is only my second time reading the Bible cover to cover and I am excited to go back and see all the notes and underlines I made three years ago (the notes I saw from today and yesterday already bring back memories and insights I had since forgotten!). The first time I read through the entire Bible, there were passages I did not fully understand (despite having the Jesus Bible that includes a bunch of additional insight) or passages sparking other questions and curiosities.

My tendency to question things, including my own spiritual beliefs began at a young age, but actually reading through scriptures led to an increase in doing so. Asking questions is beneficial, as long as I keep it from leading me towards frustration and hopelessness should I never find answers, and many of these questions are ones that likely never will get answers; I have a feeling this year I am going to come up with even more questions (in fact, I already came up with two new ones in the last two days!).

Three years ago, I wrote down all of my questions on a Notes page in my phone, and a few others have also come up and I added those as well. Below, are all of them. Some may include some additional context and for many I will reference the book/chapter it came from. Also, these are not all in order. Maybe someday a few of them will be answered. If you happen to have an answer feel free to let me know. Otherwise, please enjoy, and my sincerest apologies but not really if this leads you to an existential crisis.

Why did God create dinosaurs? I would like to add that many people have told me something along the lines of He did it to demonstrate His glory, but honestly, that is such a ‘safe’ and uncreative answer, and there is surely a better one out there. So try again.
How did God create day and night before creating the sun and moon? Gen 1:3-18
If we sinned in the Garden of Eden, what will stop us from sinning again in heaven/the new earth? Will we lose our free will?
Where is the Garden of Eden? Gen 3 In Genesis 3, God banishes Adam and Eve from the Garden, but it doesn’t say anything about destroying it and in fact mentions Him putting a flaming sword East of it. This implies it is still around somewhere, doesn’t it? Or perhaps the flood destroys it later?
Why the flood and why Noah? Gen 6 Look, I understand humanity was wicked and Noah still followed God. But was there really no one else besides him and his family following God? And there is plenty of wickedness in humanity still, so I don’t see how this attempt at restarting was particularly helpful in that regard. Certainly, it has a great teaching moment within it and the promise from God about never flooding the earth again, but from I reboot standpoint, I am missing the logic here.
How did Noah and his family deal with all the animals? Gen 6
Of all the things Lot’s wife could have turned into, why a pillar of salt? Gen 19:18-26
Why did Lot’s daughters think sleeping with Lot was a good plan? Gen 19:30-38
Why couldn’t Isaac just take the blessing he accidentally gave Jacob and give it to Esau? Gen 27
How did Jacob not realize he married Leah right away? Gen 29 Yes, I am aware her face was covered, but still… What about the rest of her body? Her hair? Her voice? I do appreciate the irony of him being deceived in a parallel manner to his father, but still.
What’s the deal with Genesis 34? Not sure, how to even begin explaining this one.
What exactly is Moses’ speech problem? A stutter? Language barrier? Exodus
Why does the Lord continually harden Pharaoh’s heart? Exodus This one drives me crazy and it happens multiple times. The Pharaoh was certainly a terrible guy on his own, but during the instances when God actively hardens his heart, it doesn’t really seem fair to punish him and all of the Egyptians for something they themselves are not technically doing.
What’s the significance of eating unleavened bread and making bread without yeast? Exodus 12
I do not really understand the angels and demons stuff. I know this isn’t really a question, but just the whole concept in general raises confusion for me.
Why did Jesus keep telling the people He healed not to tell anyone? Mark
Who is Theophilus? Luke/Acts
Why did Jesus ask the man why he called Him good? Luke 18:19
Why was Achan’s entire family and livestock killed even though they were innocent? Joshua 7
Why did Samson rip a lion and eat honey out of it and then kill people? Judges 14 I mean… First of all, how does one acquire honey in this manner to begin with?
What did Jesus write? John 8:6 I have heard several theories on this and all seem interesting and plausible, but it still remains a mystery.
Why did the Levite cut up the girl? Judges 19
Where was Thomas when Jesus first came back to the disciples? John 19:25 I’m just curious, was it his day off? Was he on his honeymoon? Feeling ill?
Why are they called 1 and 2 Samuel when Samuel dies midway through the first one and isn’t technically the “main character?” 1 and 2 David makes more logical sense for the names of the books, but whatever.
Why was it a sin for David to take a census? 2 Samuel 24
What is the book of annals of the kings of Israel? 2 Kings
What is going on in Ezekiel 1?
Why are gay acts considered sinful? I realize this is a really controversial issue, and something that I couldn’t really explain my thoughts or misunderstandings properly in this kind of format, so feel free to reach out to me directly on this one.
What is the deal with speaking in tongues? Again, like the question above, this isn’t something I can really explain in this format, so feel free to reach out to me directly on this one.
If God lovers everyone and wants everyone to follow Him, why does He make it more possible for some people to learn about Him than others?
Why isn’t there always a logical answer to questions like these, and is it wrong/what is wrong with desiring a logical answer?

So there they are! This list will likely expand as the year goes on. Have you ever wondered any of these things? Do you have other questions? Do you have answers? Feel free to let me know! God is certainly an interesting a complex being.