Tuesday, February 24

2:40-2:50 pm

While winter was as cold as I try to forget, bus duty, my last ten minutes of my work day, has become a nice part of my daily routine. It is a harsh but appreciated transition of space. After hours of hushed reading and writing of students with wavering moods, I walk out the door, take two sharp turns and lead the first graders to the bus. These nice, forming creatures are just as happy as I to be filled with the fresh air- so much so that I am forced to politely yet sternly say, "Stop running please".

Then come the big kids. Or bigger kids. These ones are so excited and are somewhat preoccupied with getting the best seat on the bus, so I am forced to be a bit more forceful. "Stop running please, the rules have not changed!" (The most confusing run-in with the running rule is the dilemma of whether or not I should let them run if they are running late. If they are in jeopardy of missing the bus I of course do not stop them, yet I am letting up on my one and very important rule) There are a few who try me at least twice a week, hoping I will become bored of being the annoying bus duty girl. I am closer than ever before to understanding the eyes in the back of the head phenomena.
And then there are the days that I actually am bored, there are no children to stop from running, and I find it fun to sometimes join in on the conversations that are vital to get out before parting ways for a few hours, though most are so confused as to why I would contribute and forget what they were saying all together.
I have realized in the last couple weeks, now that sun has flown back north, that these ten minutes are one of the best parts of my day. I find myself smiling, laughing or singing without apparent reason. And then recognize it is the air, the beautiful sun, the kids laughing and yesterday even the wind that messed up my freshly salon-ed hair, that can at once make me thankful to be alive standing on the concrete at the charter school in the middle of some fields.

Saturday, February 21


I was at the four-way stop by the glass shop, in between flying m and NNU and I saw the most interesting site.

A man in jeans and a flannel dragging a large cross over his shoulder.
I wanted to stop driving and watch and try to experience every possible contemporary vs. historical connection possible. But I continued to drive. Maybe he was trying to semi-experience the weight of the cross his Savior willingly carried.
I assume he was simply transporting the cross somewhere from one of the seven churches in the mile radius. But for me, I chose to let myself read deeper, I chose to begin my meditation on this upcoming season of Lent. Not only did Christ have to carry an awkward heavy cross while being beaten and ridiculed- he was the one nailed to it and killed. And willingly? And for me?
I pray to forget my laziness, my Grey's Anatomy, my list making, my worrying, my coffee, to attempt to experience each part of Lent, to come a little closer to understanding the sacrifice made for us.

As if that site wasn't enough to stop for, thirty seconds later I passed a large Budweiser semi pulling out of NNU. Ah irony.
(is that an appropriate use of the word irony, Chris?)

Monday, February 9

It's snowing while I feel like I'm living in spring

This weekend I had the privilege of attending the Wesley conference. I was definitely a lay-woman in a room full of theologians, philosophers, psychologists and pastors but what a treat to be around such dialogue again. This year's theme was Christian Love: Theory and Practice and discussed the possibilities of altruism and God's intent for the necessary action. I appreciate that it was not all theory but also focused on the rich yet difficult experiential practice.
You can listen to part of the conference here
My journal is chalk full after the nice three days, also I was able to enjoy the company of five good friends who flew in for the conference. Oh happy days