On everything and nothing. On anchors. On the Anchor

Everything and nothing.

That seems like my answer to everything right about now. What are you thinking for jobs? Every option, nothing for certain. What are you thinking about right now? Mind=whirlwind: everything, which means I'm thinking nothing effectively. What are you doing? Same thing. 

In the past seven days, I have: contemplated living in a different country, gave blood -> got sick, decided to move if need be for a job, considered working in Europe for the summer, finished a knitting project, did readings, decided not to do some readings, ran an event, had group meetings, had conversations, had other meetings, took my grad photos, went grocery shopping, attended class, stayed up too late, blogged for school, memorized a verse, worked ahead on some assignments, procrastinated on others... and that is the short list.

In my program, many students experience this. In the school - hundreds. In the province - thousands. It's not unique to me. It's not unique to students. And, it is truthfully a blessed busy. A blessed everything and nothing. I am incredibly blessed to be in this place.

Back to the everything and nothing... every person processes things differently. Right now, I'm blogging after some prayer, piano playing, and scripture memorization time. I'm listening to worship music. This is my processing. To reflect on everything and nothing, to write, to sing, to pray, to knit, to read, to pick out a song on the piano.

So, this post comes from my need to actually think. About one thing. Meaningfully. To step out of the cycle of everything and nothing. This post is for me, today. Because I need to not only say some things, but to hear some things. So if you're reading this, bear with me, as I'm writing a letter to myself.

Dear Sarah, what holds you? More accurately, who holds you? What brings everything and nothing together? What carries that paradox? Remember when you memorized the first verse of January? Say it now - "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Remember how that first week coming back, it anchored you? You saw it on the back of your phone or on your wall and it made you take a breath. "In the beginning was the Word." God is here. God has been preparing you for this impending graduation. You're scared. It's more scary than any other transition you've been through, I think. But that's okay. He's been talking to you for a year about roots in a place (geographical, relational, spiritual). He's been showing you that your anchor much always be Him and Him alone. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." He dwells here. With. In. So as you do everything and nothing, as you sometimes avoid the hard questions and sometimes dive headlong into them, don't forget your Anchor.

As I thought about this, I remembered the song "Jesus is the answer." You know the one - the version you heard is probably sung by a black gospel choir, with feeling, and mmmm's in the background that make you want to sway side to side. As I heard it in my head just now, the lyrics changed a bit...

"Jesus is your anchor, in your world today. Above Him there's no other; Jesus is the way." 

On placement.

Well, in my very first blog post, I mentioned that this was going to be a space for me to get my thoughts out, whether my audience was One or one hundred. So this post is going to be a bit scattered. Maybe it will end up having a theme... I don't know. Often a theme comes out through my writing and processing that I didn't even know was there.

First of all, life has been pretty busy from the last post. I went from an extremely intense two months of classes to an even more intense placement experience. I was in a 1/2 classroom in the public school in my hometown... and I loved it. I was unsure of the school climate and quality going into the placement - people talk, and more often about the bad than the good. However, I was welcomed immediately by staff and students alike, and was pleased to find an honest desire to educate the whole child to the best of our abilities. As I began teaching the class (Scary. Very scary. Especially when the teacher is staring at you.) from my very first lesson, I realized in a deeper way my love for the profession.

Each student is so incredibly unique. While I've seen that in different contexts, it's somehow different when you walk into a class and twenty students with differing backgrounds, learning needs, personalities, and fears are trusting you to help them. I learned more about differentiated learning in the first week than I had in two years of hearing lectures about it. I learned more about student engagement in that time than you can find in any textbook.

Some lessons were great - I felt like I was on top of the world... my students were engaged, my difficult students were well-behaved, and the lessons went flawlessly. But not every day was like that. I had lessons that struggled. One in particular that bombed. I had students who made me laugh (constantly! "Mrs. Kuiperseses, why aren't you married?" "Mrs. Kuiperseses, why did you mess up on the Smart Board?" Mrs. Kuiperseses, why can't I poke him?" "Mrs. Kuiperses, why is that the tens place? What about the fives place?"). And I had students - more specifically, student home situations - that made me cry. But it was important for me to go through that learning. To "fall forward" as Ann Voskamp says. Learn from it. Move forward and redeem that time. Pray for those families. Rework that lesson.

I can't help but think that the classroom reflects some larger life truths.
That the most exhausting experiences are often because they are the biggest learning experiences.
That the people who you struggle with the most become incredibly special to you, with Christ's help.
That the most wonderful feeling is helping someone who needs it.
That an honest and deep desire to love people will show, and will impact the people around you.
That you can never tell about a place by what you hear about them.
That being intentional makes a big impact on the people you are around (whether you are intentional about learning, about community, about relationship, etc.)

It turns out that the biggest wisdom really does come "from the mouth of babes."