Shake It, Sista!



"Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man
who takes refuge in him." ~Psalm 34:8 



         Stress is a terrible thing . It makes me daydream about squirting whipped cream from the can into my mouth and leads me to devour countless m&m's without even tasting them. I'm sitting here craving something salty, but I won't give into temptation and tear into that can of smoked almonds sitting  on the counter for fear that I may look like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon in the morning. I'm convinced that there's enough salt in those things to put down a Clydesdale. There's sodium in just about everything but birdseed and I'm so hungry right now it wouldn't take much for me to swallow a handful. Why, even in our discussion during Sunday school this past week was a little on the salty side. 

               My class consists of about 15-20 ladies of all ages and we've been finishing up the last chapter from the book "Heirs of the King- Living the Beatitudes" by Warren Wiersbe. Aptly named "The Salt and the Light," this section discusses the need for Christians to be valuable commodities in a dark and decaying world. Sounds gloomy, but in all actuality it really made me think about my role as a spiritual mover and "shaker" in my everyday activities. 

              According to Mr. Wiersbe, "Salt hinders corruption, but it also seasons whatever it touches" (pg. 163) and I can't agree more. Have you ever been the voice of reason or compassion when no one else would? Have you every reached out and witnessed to someone you didn't think would listen? What about boldly proclaiming your faith and risking the cajoling or upturned noses of others? I have, although I must admit that it was the Holy Spirit who took over in these times and led me to share the right words gracefully. Sometimes it's necessary to sprinkle those around us with a dose of our faith in order to trigger their conscience, remind them of what is morally just, and to preserve all that is good and right in our world. Notice I didn't say to "pour it on." Too much salt can make one bitter, left with a bad taste in his/her mouth, and with the ruined opportunity for someone to "taste and see that the Lord is good."  Like salt in a wound, it may sting them for a bit but ultimately it can lead to their spiritual healing. "Christians are not honey to soothe a sinful world; they are salt to convict it." (pg. 164)

               Salt makes people thirsty for water--Living Water. When you model a Christ-like attitude, others will curiously seek that which is within you and this often this means ministering to the needy. But when you shake it, you can't fake it so be prepared to spare a pinch or two or your time , resources, and a dash of inconvenience. As you continually  "sprinkle" your character and beliefs about, you'll allow others to fully "taste and see that He is good" for themselves. Interestingly enough, we are our saltiest when we sweat and cry. Seems that our laborious acts of service or our moments of pain can be used as prime opportunities for others to see our faith "shaken" in a very different context.   
                
              I've never been a stranger to elevated blood pressure and consider myself an expert on all things hyper and tension. Therefore, I have to avoid sodium like the plague. But like I stated earlier , it's in virtually every food I know. Pork lo Mein is my arch nemesis. Hot and Sour soup would be a form of Asian suicide. Like table salt, spiritual salt also works secretively and slowly, putting the pressure on so others can rise above. Salt unshaken will never season that which is bland and bleak. In other words, we can't keep the salt on the table. It must be used if we are going to season the lives of others. And, these are the times when a little retention around the heart is a GOOD thing. 

            You know, there's also no harm done when we shake a little pepper about too. Like salt, it has the potential to flavor the world around us.  Pepper can make people twitch and even sneeze at our beliefs, but it does give us the chance to say "bless you." And what about sugar? Well, that's another whole sweet notion now isn't it? Imagine a world where people don't wait for their neighbors to borrow sugar, they take it to them instead.

             I bought a little salt shaker today. I'm going to keep it out on my desk at work as a reminder to gently shake my faith and be a sprinkle of change and spirit. Hmmm...maybe I should keep a chocolate brownie beside it to remind me of the need to be sweet, although  it may serve more effectively as visual for" Be sweet or see your feet?" At any rate, don't take witnessing to others with a grain of salt. You've gotta 

  

SHAKE IT, SISTA!

The Final Countdown

                        

Do we enjoy each moment of the countdown, or
do we spend them all counting on all we must accomplish?
  

                   You know you are in for a whopper of a day when neither you nor the toilet paper get off to a very good start. Sadly, by the end of the day, neither of us ever really got on a roll. It's also a very bleak sign when I buy my  coffee at 7:30 a.m. and leave the drive thru with hopes, dreams, and delusional thoughts of finishing my r to-do list; only to take the last sip at 5:00p.m. with only ONE thought: How will I find the strength to sit upright and drive home?

                       I'm not really sure I can explain how the end of the school year frenzy begins. I may not know the EXACT day, but I can tell you that the students' sudden, rowdy behavior is the product of an inevitable transformation that renders them all oblivious little wind tunnels and myself to question just how many different personalities I may truly have. 

                       Each year, my class starts at the end of the alphabet and celebrates each letter backwards until the last day of school.  Zipper Day began with one child testing hers in the bathroom for nearly half an hour only to discover she didn't need one at all and stood before me in her birthday attire wrapping herself feet first in toilet paper in true mummy fashion. Well,  I wrote a note to her "mummy"  and will always use that experience as a stern reminder of how not to get so wrapped up in ourselves that we unable to take steps to free ourselves. All I can say is, that the good Lord there was no fire drill at 11:30 a.m. It may have given new meaning to "stop, drop, and ROLL." 

                     Yellow Day was a horse of an entirely different color with antics across the spectrum. I can't wear yellow, it makes me look jaundiced, but I did try to maintain a sunny disposition. I really can't summon the words to describe how I felt when a child sat in his own little "puddle" without attempting to report the morning's "precipitation." Perhaps he was conducting an experiment to see how long it would take for capillary action to dampen his collar. 

                     It was no secret that Secret Box Day whispered, "How much longer?" into my ear as I tried to remain attentive as all 26 students fielded questions and provided clues about mystery items inside the boxes. Some had great clues, still others were clueless; but in the end I managed to stay awake and caffeine free enough to wearily declare, "Let's just put a lid on it!"

                   Well, Wild Hair Day proved to cramp my style. I came to the stark realization that the day is not about outlandish locks. It's about all the little wild gray hairs a teacher sprouts.  I thought that reciting the alphabet backwards was only a test to determine sobriety. Now I'm wondering if attempting to live it out during the last few weeks of school isn't a test for mental illness.  Tomorrow is Vacation Day. Here's hoping I sprout wings and fly away to parts unknown--free from restless natives. 

                    Don't get me wrong. I'm not a party pooper. If I was, I would be sure to celebrate that on "P" Day. The problem is that I just don't have enough energy for all the end of the year fun. Astronauts have to pay attention to just one countdown. A teacher has to pay attention to about 30---deadlines for tests /report cards, book inventories, assessment windows, and class lists to name a few; all the while counting down under her breath so she doesn't get fired up and blast off. My mother recently took note of my pallid complexion, tired eyes, and shuffling gait and asked, "Sara, how can I help you out?" I told her she could help plan my funeral because I am nearly at the end of myself. 
Of course she knew I was joking, but it may not be a bad idea because I am involved in the school talent show Thursday night and wonder if I'll be overcome with embarrassment while on stage.

                  On the way to school this morning, I was thinking about how the countdown is quickening and asked God to give me the strength to face and accomplish all that lies ahead of me with the time I've been given. It was then that He reminded me that my school marm responsibilities are just a blip on the radar screen when compared to my spiritual responsibilities of serving, witnessing and loving. Eventually, the time will come for me to enter a new realm that's post -it note free. Time doesn't really run out, it just runs. The only way to keep up is to try to be fully present in the moments I've so graciously been given, not living in the future mapping out schedules and lamenting about all that I must juggle.

                   You know, maybe what I need to do is to assign an ulterior meaning to my yearly Kindergarten countdown. For example, U is for understanding, T is for thanking, R is for reaching out, etc. This  way, I can find the strength I'm so desperately needing  as I practice the faith of a Mustard Seed on Mustache Day while Moving Mountains (of paperwork) and ensure that the eternal countdown a bit more rewarding before I really do blast off for parts unknown.

                  Oh geez--  morning is fast approaching and I still haven't found a beach towel or lei for my mini vacation tomorrow. Lord, please let both be within reach because time is short ! 
                  

                    

               

"We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial."

PHILIP JAMES BAILEY, Festus

Letting Go Before I Lose It

"A fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise man quietly holds it back."

Psalms 29:11    

                    I don't care what anyone says, springtime brings more than April showers and May flowers. For this teacher of 26 and mother of 2, it also brings a strong reliance upon the Super Powers above to help me cope with all of the deadlines, to do lists, blackened calendar pages, and crazy antics. In case you've been wondering where I've been lately, I've been busy letting go and losing it. You may want to go grab a pen. After I relive the past week or so, you'll most likely feel compelled to send me a sympathy card.

               Oh my. Where do I begin?  Shortly after Easter, my five year old son spent one evening pretending he was a chicken and that our walls were electrified . After the 49th time I told him to stop pecking at the curtains, he looked at me and said, "You know, God may have picked me out for you by mistake. I think he found me in the 'simple' aisle." (Actually, I think Noah is mistaken. God knew exactly what he was doing--eternity is a very LONG time.) Two nights later I had to go to Wal Mart for a lesson in tolerance and impulse control. Sadly, my son's inner rooster decided to strut his stuff behind me pecking at the hem of my shirt and popping up and down. Oh yeah. We drew a crowd as he told the entire store "I can't help it people. You know you wanna be a popcorn chicken too!" Much to my husband's embarrassment, I could hold in the giggles no more and when he wasn't looking, I too decided to flap my feathers right there in the toilet paper aisle. I totally lost it and let go of my matronly persona, and it was soooo worth it to see the look of embarrassment on my kids' faces. At this time I wish to thank those concerned shoppers who gave their random advice about child rearing and for the cashier's generous offer for prayer.  I'm happy to say that Chicken Little was spared the stew pot, however, his father nearly laid an egg.  Now please don't pity me for sharing this tale. I just thought you should know that from this point on, it's been nothing but chaos pecking away at my sanity. 

                Things have gotten progressively nuttier in recent days. As the school year winds down, the students get very wound up. Who needs a calendar to tell you that Earth Day is quickly approaching when you find yourself saying things like, "What on earth are you doing?," "Why on earth are you cutting crayons with scissors?," "Who on earth told you that you could leave time out?" The only way I know to accurately describe the past week or so in the classroom is that it's similiar to  being trapped in a small hole with 26 constantly chattering chipmunks who think you speak Chinese and who are suffering from adverse exposure to catnip, while I am spinning 50+ plates and running full speed on a treadmill as I'm breathlessly repeating the words to "I Will Survive" and wishing Calgon did more than take us away. 

             I love my job. I really do. But this time of year can bring out the crabapple in even the sweetest peach. Teachers try so hard not to lose it , but it's hard to lose what's already gone. Sometimes I just sit at my desk and close my eyes and pray for God to send the Prize Patrol to my school's back door with a big check. Sometimes I'm tempted to pray for deafness so I can lose the ability to hear chipmunks. Sometimes, I just pray that there's been a terrible typo on the school calendar and that the last day of class is really May 1st.  Why, I'll  even admit that while writing lesson plans, I have actually pretended that I'm really completing paperwork for admission to an adult respite care facility. More than once I have gotten up out of bed with this rhyme on my mind:

                                               

                                                     Old Mother Dillow,

                                               Her head on her pillow ,

                                       Thought of her to do list and sighed.
                                      And so she got up for her coffee cup,

And tackled those papers piled high.

            I'd love to find my happy place and let it all go, but the only thing I let go of recently at school was the the container of birthday cupcakes that I so gracefully dropped upside down onto the floor.
            I think it's safe to say that I have quickly begun to fully understand the objectives of my recent life lessons thanks to some of the weekend nuttiness I endured.  What could possibly losing $25.00 in Kohls cash, fighting off thousands of ants in the kitchen, cleaning up an overturned milkshake in the backseat all over 2 Nintendos while driving, discovering the new chocolate filled Twinkies, and nearly losing my pants  during a second trip to  Wal Mart(sucking in all my breath trying not to lose it),  losing mega bucks to have the Dillowmobile fixed, and misplacing my debit card (which caused me to have to make a third trip to the store), all have in common besides patience and the perils of insanity? 

              Somehow I managed to survive these odd turn of events and was so looking forward to sleeping in, recovering, and letting go of the memories on Sunday morning, however I awoke to the sound of a mechanical hamster gyrating and repeatedly singing "Jingle Bells" in my ear. Did I pull a Rip Van Winkle and sleep for months until Christmas? Had I lost my very last marble? Did the pharmacist make a mistake and give my blood pressure medication to someone else? It didn't take me long to figure out that my little rooster had struck again as he attempted to awaken my holiday spirit a tad early. The only thing I lost that morning was my only chance to ever sleep in past 7:30 and ironically the batteries to the mechanical hamster.

theentertainingelf.com

               You know, I've gotta give the Lord credit. He sure knows how to assess word choice/vocabulary, less is more, self control, and higher order questioning. Perhaps He is also trying to teach me the value of less is more.  I can't really count how many times I thought "Jesus take the wheel and take me home." I'm still here though. So I assume He felt the need to extend the duration of my learner's permit.  At any rate, I now know that I'd better learn to quietly let it go before I totally and foolishly lose it.