November, 2015 Style

November is month that makes me want to write. My brain begins to wander from memory to memory to memory and the thoughts start to pile up to a point where if I don't let them out, they might burst.

November is a month to navigate new family normals. All holidays now have a little bit of this - being with one extended family means not being with another. Being together means one of us is going to be a little homesick. But for November, it feels extra loaded with anticipation of the Christmas and the Thanksgiving and enveloping traditions and get-togethers from two families into the space of our new family while also trying to figure out what part of the Holidays is "ours." It is a break from routine and every day life which is welcome, but also brings on stress of it's own.

November is a month of anniversaries. One year of marriage is coming up this month. 26 years of being alive. 3 years since the first of the Honduras surgeries. So many thoughts and feelings are attached to these things. Memories of the excitement, nervousness, stressfulness, and joy of getting married in front of so many friends and family. Fears that I still have so much growth to do as a wife, roommate, companion, and friend. Excitement that this is a constant, that after a year together, I'm still so excited about the future. Memories of birthday past and missing being around my family who were there for so many of them. Fears that I am not doing this adult thing right, and now I'm officially closer to 30 than 20. Memories of feeling out of control, scared, alone, inadequate, not sure how to move forward but knowing I didn't have a choice. Fear of someday finding out again that my body has betrayed me and I didn't know.

November is a full month. It brings up a mixed bag of feelings. It is neither good or bad. Just full.

On Starting Forever

I've been spending a little more time recently thinking about forever. It's mostly exciting stuff, although, there have definitely been challenges, and I'm sure there are more to come.

I think I used to think that forever was something that starts at some point in the future. Eventually I will grow-up and forever will stretch out. Eventually I will fall in love for forever. Eventually. 

Recently, I've been thinking more about the starting point for forever. Does the forever part of a relationship start with a wedding? With a declaration of best friendship? With some kind of extra commitment? 

What about the parts leading up to that point? Does the engagement period count as part of forever? The first dates? The initial coffee, or realization that you might want to spend more time with someone? 

The more I think about it, the more I realize that forever isn't just a thought of the future. It's already happening. Each day I spend with the people I love is part of my forever with them. Each facebook chat or phone call home is part of the forever. Each day of planning and anticipation... it's all a part of the forever. 

It's hard for me to think of forever without thinking of eternity. Obviously, that's more permanent than any earthly forever. Still, I seem to have the same problem. I think of it as something that will start... someday. I don't really spend a lot of time considering the part of forever that is in the relationship I'm developing now. 

Forever to get to know each other better. Forever to grow. Forever to learn. Forever. Starting now. 

On moving forward and looking back

I was looking at my lesson plans from last year to see what resources i had for this coming week. I mean, why reinvent the wheel, right?

Anyway, this took me right to the less lessons I wrote for Thanksgiving week last year. The week I headed to the hospital for a stomachache and came home with less insides and secret cancer. I also signed up for the Thanksgiving dinner, which is the event I left early last year because of the pain in my stomach.

I was looking through old blog  posts tonight and I read through the first post I wrote post surgery. Rereading about the ultrasound and that terrifying moment of waking up with a bandage on my stomach and a tube in my nose bright back more intense feelings than I would have expected. You can forget a lot in a year, apparently. I guess that explains why my 7th graders cannot seem to remember what we learned about persuasive writing last year... but anyway.

You may wonder about the point of this post. Why look back on that? Why remember? What's the point?

In bible study tonight, we looked at some Psalms. I was struck by the fact that even the praise Psalms have parts about times of trouble, and the lament Psalms have memories of God's faithfulness in the past.

I may not always be up. I'm not actually, and it's something I've really been struggling with. But I have a God.. the God who I remember has been faithful in the past... through the surgery, recovery, and so many other storms. I can see how he used some of them, and I can use those memories to remind me to trust him to use the rest.

On Distance

I think I've written that this year, I feel much farther from home than last year. If I haven't written/verbalized it... whoops. I feel that.

I haven't quite figured out why - if it's the fact that my friends are starting their "real" lives with real jobs and real apartments in what could be long-term situations, if it's the fact that my sisters are all graduating and moving on to the next stages of their lives, if it's my little brother starting college or my other little brother turning into a soccer star... or if it's just the fact that I've made even less time to call home this year.

I don't know if it's the fact that I feel I'm moving in such a different direction from people at home, where trying to connect over the differences in our lives seems like way more effort than I have energy at the end of the day. Or if it's the fact that looking forward to moving back the States makes me focus more on how I'm not there now. Or whatever.

Anyway. It's been something I've been feeling all year. Or, all 10+ weeks since I've been back.

It's also something I'm feeling especially strongly right now.

As some of you may know, my Grandma died sometime early this morning.

And she is gone, and the distance between memories of her from childhood seems unfathomable.

And my family is wonderful and they've been great today about keeping in touch and including and loving me from afar... but I feel the distance, especially when I think of not being able to hug my mom until December 21.

And so today I am sad. Very sad, in fact. And I feel the distance.

Psalm 139:7-10

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

I'm thankful today for parents and grandparents who encouraged memorizing and being familiar with scripture and hymns, and that I have a God who brings the right words to memory when I need them.

On I'm a stuck up jerk sometimes

The past couple days I've felt especially far from home. I mean, geographically, it's the same as its been for most of the past year+. But I'm feeling the distance in relationship between family and friends much stronger right now. 

I came to Honduras seeking independence, among other things. I wanted to prove that I am indeed the type of girl who can up and leave and a make a new life, no looking back. That girl seemed strong and ideal. 

I have a lot of students. They have different strengths and weaknesses. Some of them appear to be able to do more awesome things than others. I get along with some of them much better than I do with others. 

But, despite their differences, I don't have one or ten or twenty students who are "ideal" or "more awesome" than all the rest. Their value isn't from fitting some perfect mold. 

We're reading/finish A Wrinkle in Time again in 6th grade. The "perfect" world without differences horrifies my students. I mean, it horrifies me too, in a book. And in theory, in real life. Yet, I frequently fin myself wishing the world went my way an looking down on others who have taken different paths than I have or would. 

Diversity is good. One type of lifestyle isn't inherently better than the others. I can dream of a life closer to friends and family, in a "normal" school. I can be dependent. I don't have to meet some standard to be worthwhile.

Not that being here isn't good too. Gah. So many choices in life. I guess I'm just thankful for a God who can use all the variety and choices to teach and instruct and bless as he sees fit.

#mskroon

My students pretty frequently ask me for words. Considering that they only use English at school, I usually indulge them if they can explain the concept to me in English. This almost always leads to pretty tame, uneventful conversations like

"Mees, what is the word that means you want all the things of the other person?"

"um... jealousy?"

"No mees, it is not yealous. The other one."

 "Umm... um.... envy?"

"Jes mees, it is envy."

Perfect. Phew. That was a close one.


But today I get this lovely gem.

"Mees, I need you to help me with a word."

"Ok, can you describe it in English?"

"Will you get mad?"

"Um, not if it's school appropriate."

"You will not get mad?"

At this point I'm nervous, but also quite curious.

"No."

"Ok. What is the word that means a really big fart?"


...

...

They have a separate word for that? Like, fluperart? maxifart? gigantifart? It's it's own word? I should have asked. Because now, I don't really know how to look up "really big fart" in a spanish dictionary. Sometimes second language skills are hard.

"Um, I would probably say a really big fart. Or maybe, a disgustingly dreadful fuming fart."

"eye roll. Mees. That is not how you would say it. And why do you talk about farts?"

Um... because you asked. And because I can, I guess.


Speaking of sweet scents, this morning I got the most perfect rose I've ever seen. Not one of those grocery store/nice flower shop if you know someone who got time for that roses, but the kind that grow in the garden and bloom and smell the same no matter what country you're in. The kind that smell like my mom. The kind that make me miss her and almost cry.

This afternoon, I was tagged in a photo that contained my first hashtag. And, yes, I am proud. Like, took a screenshot and showed it to more people than I care to admit proud. Like I say to my kids... "whatever, I'm 23. Judge away." (and they do... so you're welcome to too)

I think there have been a lot of times recently when I've vocalized the feeling of not fitting in. I say I'm having a hard time feeling like myself here. I have complained about my job.

But thinking back on the events of today and this week... this is part of me too. The farts, flowers, and facebook hashtagging excitement... that's me.

It might sound silly, but it's really reassuring to remember that I still exist.

Time

So, this is the new year. 

It's a little hard to believe we're already in the second week of school. Then again, it's also hard to believe it's only the second week of school. 

Being back at school is reminding me of the strange sense of time a busy life seems to bring with it. On one hand, I'm always waiting for it to be Friday. I mean, I love my kids, but I also REALLY love not getting up at 5:30. I mean 5:45. Whoops. Could my week MOVE any slower?

 On the other hand... It's already 9:48 and I still have plenty of work I could do. I feel like it was JUST Friday. Where does the time go? 

One thing I'm trying to work on this year is accepting time for what it is. To enjoy spending time with people without constantly thinking about the other things I'm not doing. To accept limitations and maybe go to bed at a decent hour. To use the time I have at school wisely instead of procrastinating on facebook. 

Oh, time. It's a funny thing. When I think ahead to the year ahead of me... it seems forever long. But then I think back on the year that has gone by since I started school for the first time... and it seems like I just moved to Honduras for the first time. 

Amidst all these thoughts about time, a verse we looked at in church on Sunday pops into mind. We looked at John 8:58 (for just a second) which says, 58Jesus said to them, "Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was born, I am." 

One of the things I love about this verse is the grammar... the tense, the wordplay. Oh Jesus, you're so good with your 6+1 Traits sometimes. The nerd in me just loves it. But, more than that, the me living each day minute by minute and hour by hour thought the rushing and the waiting appreciates that no matter how long a day or month takes, or how quickly this year moves by... the one who was, who is, and who will be is there... sovereign over time, sovereign over life, but still walking/running/crawling with me down this path.