Heliotropes and Suicide

Oh my. This garden of mine.
I am going to be honest and say I am vulnerably exciting about the garden.
What sanctuary it provides, what rest, what respite from the to-do list...and what wisdom.
In very little ways, God has been using the things I've learned about different flowers and gardening principles to mirror back to me principles about Himself, my relationship with Him, and His Kingdom.
This makes sense, Psalm 19 tells us that He reveals Himself through His creation.

And besides, we can learn a lot from plants. Just these 2 principles alone can help my life tremendously:

1- Seek out the sun -Son- (and move towards it at all cost)

Do you know what the word Heliotrope means? It's from the term Heliotropium, a genus of flower. These flowers are known for their movement in response to the sun.

Heliotrope has also been called “turnsole,” after its tendency to turn its flowers and leaves toward the sun over the course of each day. And at night it readjusts itself to face eastward, to be ready for sunrise. That tendency is at the root of the name heliotrope, too. It means to move with the sun.

(Source)

Here is a picture from my garden of just that same thing.

This plant amazes me. Not only does it leave it's comfortable, secure position but it stretches itself out FEET away from it's root. The other day I came outside to see a 8-9 foot piece sustained in midair. I just kept staring at it, wondering what it was reaching for and how it managed to hold itself up suspended.

 Another example of seeking out the sun and life is this plant, right here.

These flowers are comfortable seeking out life anywhere. They will just pop up wherever they can be sustained. It may look uncomfortable, they may have to share space with a big, bushy, green tree, but they thrive.

2-Cut it off (Or it will drain unnecessary life from the plant)

Basic gardening principle (that I didn't know before), whatever is dying, cut it off. When I asked my friend Emily why we do this she responded, "so the plant isn't sending all it's nutrients and energy to a part of it that will never grow or bear fruit". Bah! Of course! How brilliant this concept is. How much of my time and energy do I put into things that don't matter or will never produce the life that God asks me to produce.

Most plants need us to do this for them, to run around with scissors and cut off all the dead things. It helps them grow faster, right? Jesus, of course, is great at this. But I'm convinced we should be able to do it for ourselves, too. Consider it self-suicide. Ha! And do you know what flower seems to be the best at this? While all other plants are wasting their energy pumping out nutrients to the dead heads I have forgotten to pluck, Wisteria does it itself. It seems that the wisteria bush behind my grill that is frequently exposed to hot, summer grill-outs kills parts of itself that have been damaged by my fun. It doesn't wait for me to come along and clip it.

It realizes that life is precious, moments are ticking, and if a thing is dying...it's time to go.
(Ok, so maybe it doesn't actually realize all of that.)

Jesus, help me learn to cut off the stuff that drains energy you have reserved for something else. Teach me to go out on a limb, to seek you out at all cost, to be comfortable in the uncomfortable, and to daily be seeking Your face.

Also, anyone taken a notice to these things called TREES?! They are pretty incredible, too.....

xoxo,

mp

Proverbs 18:21, Hebrews 11:1

This is really a battle.

And you will never 'arrive'.

You have to fight.

There is a war for your soul.

And excuses won't matter.
(And it doesn't make it feel better).

The enemy will come to steal your focus.

But for lack of vision people perish.

And paying attention to nothing but your defects keeps you unfocused.

Don't forget who you are in Christ and what He wants to do for you.
 Self-pity will not help.

You can't be pitiful and powerful at the same time.

When darkness comes and you can't see clearly....

Stir YOURSELF up.

Because apart from Him you can do nothing.

You can't breathe. You can't see clearly. You can't love. You can't get out of bed.

Thank God for when He brings correction.

Be joyful in the pain and suffering.

Rejoice when He disciplines.

Because in the secret places no one can see you must develop your character.

Your integrity.

(What we do when nobody is looking).

It matters what we do there.

The little things matter.
Turning the lights off, putting the cart back, returning the change.

The same power that raised Christ from the dead is inside you.

We are bought with a price. We've been purchased.

And remember,

You cannot defeat Goliath with your mouth shut.

So speak truth out loud.

Even when it doesn't feel right

And we are to call things that are not yet there as though they were.

 It starts today.

Maintain The Gain

 (Before)

 

(After!)

I have started a garden. I have turned into my grandmother.
I like watching birds. I like learning about the different flowers.
I like listening to birds singing and trying to remember which one it is.

Yesterday, a friend of mine from out of town came to help me get it all set up. She had lived here previously and done a lot of work on the garden I had so conveniently inherited.
We went to a local farm and got lots of flowers; marigolds, geraniums, Salvia, succulents, and some crazy rainbow sherbet looking junk.
We also went to Home Depot (woof) and got a bird bath, pots, soil, a hose, etc.

And after a lot of work, shrimp, basement floods, water refills, slivers, and dirty hands...

it. is. finished.

And I really believe God wants to use this garden experience to teach me something profound; maintenance.

Maintaining something you have started or established is no easy task. One-and-done jobs are so nice because it's easy and it requires your attention for one moment and then you can go about your life. The funny thing is...I currently can not remember anything that only happens once. Well, maybe death. Here's some examples of things (some very annoying to me personally) that require maintenance:

Buying flowers for your dining room table. They die. Enjoy getting more.
Buying groceries. You eat them. Enjoy getting more.
Daily devotional time with Jesus. You quickly forget. Enjoy renewing your mind daily. (But really)
Daily dying to yourself.
Working out. Had a nice workout? Enjoy having another.
And on and on the list goes.

This garden will require maintenance.
And I will have to stay on top of it.
I have to remember how often to water. And that cycle is different than the miracle grow cycle. And sometimes, it will be a chore. Having that little paradise in my backyard comes at a cost.
But I know that He will want to talk to me about weeding, maintaining things, death, life cycles, the importance of rest, about water bringing life, about taking care of even the birds, etc etc.

I'm excited to have a summer with my Father. I'm excited to learn and be taught through His creation.
And I'm excited to potentially keep something alive (I will!) and not kill it

(with forgetfulness, laziness, or neglectfulness).

I think there's a lesson with this garden in those 3 relationship and success killers, too.
Those who have ears to ear, let them hear. Lord, give me ears...

Cheers to summer projects!
Anyone have advice on humming bird feeders?
 (Or how to kill squirrels?!?!)

 (Before)

 (After!)

xoxo,
mp

Repotting  

by Lynne Sharon Schwartz

The healthy plant outgrows its pot

the way a healthy child outgrows its clothes.

Don't let it suffer constriction. Spread the Sports

or Business section of the New York Times

on the dining room table. Find a clay pot

big enough for fresh growth. In the bottom

place pebbles and shards from a broken pot for drainage.

Add handfuls of moist black potting soil,

digging your hands deep in the bag, rooting

so the soil gets under your fingernails.

Using a small spade or butter knife,

ease the plant out of its old pot with extreme

care so as not to disturb its wiry roots.

The plant is naked, suspended from your hand

like a newborn, roots and clinging soil

exposed. Treat it gently. Settle it

into the center of the new pot, adding soil

on the sides for support—who isn't shaky,

moving into a new home ?

Pack more soil around the plant,

tapping it down till you almost reach the rim.

Flounce the leaves as you would a skirt. Then water.

Place the pot back on the shelf in the sunlight.

Gather the Sports section around the spilled soil

and discard. Watch your plant flourish.

You have done a good and necessary deed.

Number My Days

When did life start moving so fast?
It seems like just the other day I was playing soccer, having sleep overson my roof on State Street (remember when Sarah Fabry ran in her underwear down the street?) , and driving around in a '93 Plymouth Laser.
When did it change to 5am morning routines, staff meetings, and just waiting for the weekend?
I hate it admit it, but sometimes that's just what I do; wait for the weekend.
And I'm someone who loves my job.
What happens to my life, though, when I'm just waiting for weekend activities?
And where did the past 3 years go?

"Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life."
Psalm 39:4

Be patient with my rant but... I can't help but feel like perhaps it's a trance.
Maybe one of the most beautiful things about being in this season is forcing yourself to enjoy it all. All the grocery shopping, the laundry, the 5am mornings, etc.
Maybe by not having lots of time, we start to cherish the moments we have.
And why don't we have time?
Who swallowed time and burped up appointments and to-do lists?

Am I the only one who feels like it's impossible sometimes to balance this whole thing?
And still enjoy the sunsets?
And not forget about your grandma back home?
And not waste the entire week waiting for Saturday?

I want to snap out of this trance.
This trick.
This vacuum of favorite TV shows, facebook hours logged, and newest apps.
I want to shake things up in my world some days.
Enough to make me realize my days are numbered...and they were never about weekends.
I will someday be dying. And someday, it will matter what my Tuesday afternoon looked like.
Or how I handled a million little stressful moments with people I loved.
Or if I lay on a bathroom floor with a friend while she cried.
Or if I gossiped.
It will all matter.
I want to live a life worthy of my calling.

"As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace." Ephesians 4:1-5

And what is this gnawing sense of 'If only ____ then I'd be happy'.
This uneasy feeling that we are always heading towards something.
Rushing through yellow lights for it.
Bumping into people in Wegmans for it.
Not going to little kids birthday parties for it.
Violently spinning around in circles for it.
...when we've never even seen what 'it' is.
....I don't think there is an it.
I think it's part of this trance we can so easily succumb to.
And it's not even that busyness is bad.
But if I were to be honest, sometimes I'm not even enjoying where I'm at before I'm off to the next thing in my head.

And does anyone else ever feel the fight against selfishness?
The almost impossibility of living a life for other people?
When everything in your blood screams to live for you.

This entire culture is about being selfish, being impatient, rushing your days, envying your neighbor, and winning whatever race we all get thrown into.

And it'd be easy to move away to some other country. It'd be easy to convince ourselves that if we just get out of the United States, we'd be better human beings.
But I feel like Jesus is telling me that this is the best training ground.
And I can't muscle my way through it, I have to sit down with Him in the mornings...and let Him wash over me all the things I can't give myself. I have to let Him take from me all that I've grabbed unto the previous day. I have to ask to be cleansed from all the muck I've invited in.
And I have to function in a society that is contrary to truth.
Because, He wants to make sense of it all.

The truth is, my days are numbered.
And if I don't somehow get a hold of this truth...
I will spin in circles and budge people in lines for a moment that doesn't exist.
If I don't honor the month of my life spent at red lights,
Or how the rain rests on the leaves in the morning,
Or how there will always be laundry in my basket....I will miss what matters.

Spending time with the God who can make sense of all of this.
Writing a letter to a friend getting married soon.
Making small talk with the woman just as undecided on toothpaste as I am. (Because, let's get real folks-have you ever looked at the back? How do you decide? The ingredients seem the same and my golly they all claim to have different effects!)


Just the other day, I had a man named George from my Nissan Dealership drive me to my mom's work while my car was being worked on. We talked about his life, his choice to move to Rochester, his granddaughter who wanted him to paint her car pink, and KLOVE. Before I got out of the car I asked Him, "What wisdom would you give a 20 something year old trying to figure it out". I waiting in anticipation for his answer when he finally said, "There's nothing I can say that you'd hear. You'll figure it out. Just do the right thing over and over."


Not what I was expecting. But I don't even get that right on a daily basis.


What did the woman two years ago say when I asked her the same thing on a park bench? "The grass isn't always greener."


I don't get that right, either.


Jesus, wake me up from this trance.
Daily.
Teach me to die to myself.
Daily.
Help me love others above myself.
And teach me to number my days....
(Because they are flying by)
(And I can't always decide on my own what things to spend time on that will matter)
.

Anxiety

(Thanks boyfriend for this. Check out some of his brain here.)
"You either get hit by lightning, or you don't," whispered Hobson. "If you can't start a fire, you could freeze to death," added Scooter. "If you do start a fire, you could burn to death."

(from Alvin Ho: Allergic To Camping, Hiking, And Other Natural Disasters by Lenore Look)

It seems to me God selects certain times and certain seasons, to highlight certain attributes about your person or roots inside your being that need attention. That need weeding.
Highlight now? Ladies and gentleman, I present to you... ::drum roll please::......

Anxiety.

Worry.

Fear.

What does our good friend Merriam say about anxiety?
That it's a painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usually over an impending ill.
That it's a fearful concern or interest. An abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and self-doubt of one's ability to cope with it.

Danggggggg.

Dear anxiety,

Jesus has spotted you out in my heart and pointed to you.

It's not just 'normal' anymore. Or unnoticed.

You have been seen. You are out of place.

He will rid me of you.

With no love, Meg.

But seriously, that's how these things go until Jesus highlights them; unnoticed.

And I am one to figure out the root cause of all things. To dig deep and investigate. To psycho-analyze to the point of absurdity.  But, honestly, I'm exhausted with it all.

I can't color code, catalog, and control every aspect of my physical and spiritual life. 

It will be OK if I don't. So this time, I just know it's there. I have an issue with anxiety. With worry. With fear.
And that's sin.
And God wants to come in, to swoop in, and fight on my behalf.

Sometimes it's hard to really spot it in your life so let me give you some concrete (and obnoxious) examples of anxiety inviting itself in in certain areas of my own life. It runs so deep that it shows up:

• If it's nice out. -I feel compelled to enjoy the weather. I feel as if there is some world shaking, ground breaking, fun frantic event that I am missing. 

The book, The Shack, describes it best:  

"There is something joyful about storms that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases your from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate rather than individual experience. One can almost hear a unified sigh from the nearby city and surrounding countryside where Nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview. All those affected this way are united by a mutual excuse and the heart is suddenly and unexpectedly a little giddy."

• If God talks to me. -I feel like that if I don't document every connection or theme or word he is breathing in my balloon covered moleskin, I will miss it. By some turn of fate...I will, in fact, let what words God, who has proved to be painstakingly persistent in the face of my ignorance, dissipate into air; never to be seen again. This is not the IRS. Things do not have to be documented with such viciousness.

• If someone pays me a compliment. - I feel as if now there are expectations that they have (as well as myself)put on me. And I must duplicate said qualities in the future. And often. And without fail.

Writing it out, it all sounds ridiculous. But these are the areas in my life that Mr. Anxiety creeps in. And soon, it becomes so normal to feel these certain ways that I forget it's even anxiety at all.

It can be about needing to control people.
Or worry they will leave you.
Or feelings that you are not good at what you're doing.
Or that the sun will someday fade away and life will cease to exist so what is the point of anything!? (Ok, my apologies. That one is a Woody Allen quote from Annie Hall. I couldn't help myself.)

The problem with all of this is...it took me too long to realize this was anxiety. All of it.
I had wished there was a way I could have noticed it sooner.
And then, I realized, there is.
What did I need?
A way to examine myself. Sort of like checking in before I'm too off course it will take forever to get back. But sometimes, that can be so hard. Everyone has a different idea of what it means to be on track and we all know comparing ourselves to standards set by the world doesn't end well.
Not even criteria set by friends or counselors or mentors is the best way. Instead, something God has told me I can be absolutely sure of? Galtians 5 has the perfect thing.

Fruits of the Spirit.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 

Do I have love?

Do I have joy?

do I have peace?

Do I have long suffering?

Do I have kindness?

Do I have goodness?

Do I have faithfulness?

Do I have gentleness?

Do I have self-control?

...Or do I have the opposite of all these things?

So that's what I'm going to do.
Instead of worry all the time and managing every detail I will instead look into the eyes of Jesus and ask Him to help me examine my heart. I'll trust He is big enough to show me these things. And these Fruits of the Spirit will be my main guide along the way in this journey with Him.
And if I am, in fact off track, He is faithful to bring me back.

As far as anxiety goes, it's all nonsense.

It would matter if you did have to control everything.
It would matter if you were a helpless being in a sea of circumstance.
But you're not. I'm not. We're not.
We are children of God.
Who really are only asked to accept the fact that we can't be God.
That we will never work hard enough or be good enough.
That He really did have to die. Not just for a sometimes miserable or anxious-ridden person. But for a person so helpless that He, as the Bible paints it, came along while we were kicking and screaming in a pool of our own blood.
(There's a picture for you.)

I will never be able to micro manage and control it all.
There are too many variables and too many things that could go wrong.
It's almost funny to think of.
Good thing I can stand behind a God who says not to worry and who can be trusted.
Because ultimately, I have no control.

I'll either get hit by lightning, or I won't.

So tie it to some balloons and let it go. 

xoxo,
mp

PS-The verse in Philippians 4:6 about not being anxious about anything is hysterical to me. Did you realize it is saying, amongst other things, that a way to fight anxiety is THANKSGIVING?! To literally, in the middle of all of your worry,remember all the things He has already done. And become filled with thanks. Try it. It works. It always seems like when I see what He has done before somehow my current state of myopia is corrected.

Now; Until It Sticks To My Bones

"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

Philippians 4:12

Paul was unto something here. Learning to be content.

Notice he doesn't say happy; being the fleeting emotion that it is, who could base their life around that?

He says content. Or satisfied.

To be in the present. To be satisfied with the present.

These are the things God's been whispering to me lately. And I thought I was a master at this!

To live life! To not miss a moment! To breathe in the air deep, avoiding life comas at all costs!

But the truth is, I haven't been good at this. Not the way He wants me to be.

Perfect example of this with 'future' projection: Costa Rica.

The very moment I get there, dirty backpacked strapped to my shoulders and college friends by my side, enraptured by all that is around me...the first words out of my mouth? I can't wait to come back here.

Something is extremely wrong with that.

Here I am, surrounded by the now, and I'm already planning for the future.

There is the problem. And that's where some of us stay our whole lives. And we miss it.
(Future projection also looks a lot like...waiting for the floor to fall out from underneath you and always expecting something bad to happen. I believe anxiety literally has that definition. Thank you to my dear friend, Stacy, who reminded me that I will miss all the beautiful now moments if I'm always worried about something like that)

Perfect example of this with 'past' projection: School Without Walls.
I just visited my old school last week.
I realized I have been living in the past there, still.
And I have not fully been in the present with my new kids.
While I am blessed to have had that opportunity and I miss those kids very much, that season is over.
And if I don't wake up and enjoy what's in front of me now, Ill miss it.

I think part of this revelation comes from the new season I am in. A late 20-something year old.

It's here that life slows down. Up until this moment it has been all big events.

You're 16.

You're at prom.

You graduate high school.

You pick a college.

You're swallowed up by 4-5 years of college life.

You turn 21.

And then it spits you out. Full of adrenaline. Left to your own devices and expectations.

And that's where reality sinks in.

...sure you have the big '25'.

But this is life.

Day in, day out.

And the 'big events' are over.

I spent a large portion of my life planning the next 'big event'. And they were all plenty happy to present themselves. It was all about the next adventure or trip or get together. But at some point you have to ask yourself...what about now? Because eventually, it doesn't satisfy. Or it gets exhausting. Or it's not realistic. And you are left alone in the room with.... the 'now'.

Because at some point, now is the most important thing.

And the next string of moments might only be hundreds of 'nows'.

And somewhere along the way I thought to myself, 

'If I can't be content in the seemingly mundane now, will I ever be happy?'

And honestly, I don't think I would be. Could be.

Because to really appreciate the moment when it's not super exciting is hard.

It's a skill.

Someone today taught me that in order to stop your mind, while in a moment, from wandering to the past or rolling off into the future (anxiety.) you have to pause and focus on the senses.

What am I smelling?

What am I tasting?

What am I seeing?

What am I hearing?

What am I feeling (tangible)?

Sure it sounds foolish. But when fully engaged in this activity, your mind doesn't have time to weigh itself down by where you've come from or worry you about what's going to happen. You can only focus on the birds singing outside, the smell of your sheets scented with laundry soap, the feeling of down comforters under your skin, etc.

And this skill I will practice until I die.

I will fight against the battle for my 'now'.

Recently, I have started to fall in love with my back yard garden. And birds.

My boyfriend took me on this secret trail where 8 birds fed out of my hand.

What an incredible moment. And I realized every bird has a different song.

Before, it all sounded the same. Like birds.

Now, (and with the help of my bird whisperer boyfriend and Barnes and Noble book) I am beginning to separate the myriad of sounds I hear from my porch into very specific songs each male bird is singing to the females.

And isn't that what everything is about?

Somehow taking a step back and separating the swirling, chaotic, blurry mix of thoughts and life out until it makes sense....or at least until you can taste it.

Although I haven't always been able to practice it, I've loved this concept all along. I am obsessed, intrigued, moved by inner worlds. Attention to detail. Separating the seemingly monotonous, uninteresting out into a stretch of detailed descriptions. That's why I love David Foster Wallace, the poem 'People', why I love looking inside people's brightly lit houses at night (creeper status?), why I love listening to conversations at Tap & Mallet and imagining their life. It all makes you stop, makes you listen, makes you think about their world.

All I know is that life is ready to freely hand you anxiety.

And this anxiety will choke the joy out of the now.

And I am holding tightly to my now; tasting, hearing, seeing, smelling, feeling....

Until it sticks to my bones.

The Word

by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom

of the crossed-out list

of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"

and "broccoli," you find

that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word

is beautiful. It touches you

as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present

he had sent from someplace distant

as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,

among your duties, pleasure

is a thing

that also needs accomplishing.

Do you remember?

that time and light are kinds

of love, and love

is no less practical

than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?

Tomorrow you may be utterly

without a clue,

but today you get a telegram

from the heart in exile,

proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,

the king and queen alive,

still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them

who can find the time

to sit out in the sun and listen.

 xoxo,

mp

Do You Know How That Feels?

Mr. Powell asked if he could keep my drawing. Do you know how that feels? 

(from Okay For Now by Gary D. Schmidt)

Yesterday I visited the school I spent the last two years of my life, heart, and skills in. I cried a lot. I smiled a lot.

My good friend and I met at said school two years ago. We also left the city at the same time the end of the year last year. So, she visited this weekend and we decided to make a visit and see the place that has felt like home for so long.

Before I could even enter the building, students were pouring out to greet me.
Quickly, I was the wave came; hug after hug. And just like that, it was like no time had past. Like slipping on your favorite pair of soccer shorts. This was my home. This was where being myself was the only way to be. This was where my idiosyncrasies could be useful and my passion came alive.

Students who were so special to me, those I had formed a bond with for two years were able to sit down and talk like no time had passed. Students I had driven home, given relationship advice to, students whose heads I held while they overdosed in my class, whose parents I had prayed with over their son's hospital bed, students I lectured, joked with, brought into my home for Spanish Food Day, made skits with, challenged to the point of anger, learned Spanish dances at Tango Dance Cafe with, and those I walked alongside in their fight for success. My kids.

And the weirdest part of it all, there were kids whose names I didn't even know, calling me by name and so excited to see me there again.

And then it started; sharing memories. We laughed about boogers of the day, of me going down the hall pushed on skateboards playing the guitar to get kids to class and to stop making out. But slowly, it became obvious...they remembered everything. And it meant more to them than I realized. They needed to know they were special. That I hadn't replaced them. And as they listed off all the ways they missed me and all the special things they remembered...I just wanted to cry.

Had I really left such an impact?
Wasn't I just a hot mess barely keeping afloat?
Had they really noticed I cared so much?
Had they really listened every time I took them aside and spoke truth into their life?
They did.
They heard every word.
When they seemed disinterested, they weren't.
When they seemed like they weren't paying attention to my advice, they were.

They were testing me.
And I passed.
And they let me in.
....and I left.
Like all other adults in their life do.

So, that piece I will be wrestling with for awhile.
But what I know to be true is that we should never doubt the impact we can have on another person.
The lie is that what you do or say doesn't matter. That if it's not you, someone else just as capable will do it.
But someone else won't. And they don't.

What I know to be true I that God is good.
And He is in control.
And He is for me.
And He is the one who made me like this.
And He is the one who made my heart fill with love for these kids.
And He knows what He's doing...even when it hurts.

Sometimes, there are seasons. And you have to be able to let go. And you have to be able to give your whole heart to the new thing.
I realized, I haven't been giving me whole heart to my new students.
That I have still been mourning my first home. My first love.
Or rather, I never really left myself mourn.
But yesterday...I had a chance to do that.

But... I'm going to do whatever I do with my whole heart.
Starting now.
Because my new students deserve the same memories.
 Even if it's not the same as the old school, it was never suppose to be.
And this problem of giving my whole heart isn't just here. It's everywhere in my life.
I'm going to not avoid things that may hurt.
Or pull away from hugs first before someone else can.
Or end phone conversations before someone else does.
I'm going to try to love fully. Be a friend fully. Be a teacher fully. Be a child of God fully.
And stop trying to protect my heart so much.
Because I may never cry if I do that, but I miss the whole point.

Thank you to my first group of kids.
Who taught me so much about myself and about life.
Who fought and survived their circumstances.
Who inspired me every day. Who made me laugh.
And who let me in their worlds and loved me.
... do you know how that feels?

I'm learning to:
Love even if I will have to move on.
Not diminish the power I have in others lives.
Trust God's seasons.
Because even if I knew I would have this pain of loss when I started, I would have done it all anyway.

Because I'm lucky, I do know how 'that' feels.

Xoxo,
Mp