My right front tire got progressively lower. I'd fill it; it would begin to empty itself. With travel plans in the works for this past weekend, I had to get something done. Unfortunately, I was in a Kiss-the-Pig contest, results to be announced at last Thursday's basketball game, and had other obligations the next night. When was I going to have enough time away from work to get to my town, get the tire taken care of, and get back to the school?
On impulse, I ran out of my room after the first custodian I saw Thursday morning. Custodians always know things.
"Where would you take a car with a leaky front tire?"
He told me of the local co-op (which I'd never used and didn't think I could--aren't those private sorts of things?), which wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting something in my bigger town--not something in this no-stoplight even-smaller town. I hesitated, questioned further, and his response was, "Well, get it fixed or get a new tire."
Yes. Indeed. I'm not a big fan of brusqueness.
A few minutes later, he showed up at my door.
"Do you want me to take your car over there? K [also on custodial staff] is here, so we could do it."
A) Control freak. I'm sure that of all the people, our maintenance/custodial guys are capable of driving cars, but still...
B) Germ freak. Custodial staff. Trash cans. Emptied. Stuff falls out. Stuff gets put back in. I don't see our custodians (wonderful as they are!) walking around with sinks on backpacks. What's on the floor would be on my keys...and in my car...my car...my nice little haven...
I asked if I could get back to him in a couple of minutes.
I called a tire place in my bigger small town and was told they could probably get me in the next afternoon. But then, I figured, the necessary time would depend on the extent of repairs--and what if they needed to keep it over the weekend? That wouldn't work with my other plans. I went in search of my custodian.
It turned out that I could be out of my room for a few minutes, so I could drive my car to the co-op and he would take me back to school. Then along came K, who happened to be going that way anyway. He followed me over and waited while I ran my keys inside. I told the man behind the counter that I teach at the school and was told by my custodial staff that the co-op was the place to go for tire repairs. I asked if the shop would call me when my tire was done; the man told me they could drop it off at school for me.
Seriously?
A few hours later, a very tall man walked into my study hall and handed me my keys and my bill. He said I could stop over at four to pay it. As he left, I looked at it--$8.40.
Seriously?
Labor and delivery for less than nine bucks?
When I went back at four, I wanted to pay them more out of gratitude. Didn't, but wanted to. It was a different man behind the counter this time. I hadn't even told him my name but referred to myself as the one who had the leaky tire (turned out to be a nail); he said, "Oh--I've heard about you!"
Really. When working in a school system, that's not always a good thing.
He told me his daughters' names, and I realized that they're two who are incredibly personable and kind young ladies. The younger one, now that she has me as a teacher, gets off her school bus to hang out with me while I have bus duty twice a week.
He told me that the co-op does repairs for a lot of the teachers, and even some of the students. They'll pick up cars from our parking lot and return them, all taken care of.
Really?
This is what I like about small towns.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
My Bible study meets in the home of friends who adopted a little boy from Ukraine in the past year. I talked with J at the start of study this evening, and expressed my frustration with work, life, etc. Something's got me tense and unsettled; I'm not sure what. With little M on her lap, J asked me what I can do in my singleness that I couldn't do if I had a family. I couldn't think of anything; I like the idea of being around here and getting settled with a husband and children (preferably my own). Other places interest me, but nothing has been calling.
J directed me to go somewhere--go to another country for a couple weeks. My brain started thinking of the reasons why that wasn't a good idea: monetary expense, safety, direction, not knowing anyone... Sure, maybe I should go somewhere else within the States; maybe if I did that, it would appease the "leave the country" notion.
E joined our group after study and was peppered with questions about E and J's adoption of little M. He mentioned teenage girls who disappear after they grow out of the orphanage; they're taken across the sea by sex traffickers and put to "work" in Turkey.
I wanted to bring them all here--but am not in a feasible place to do that. If only I could go to them...
If only what?
The more I thought of it, the more the idea made sense--and scared me. E and J have connections in Ukraine. My friend EMo teaches at a Christian school there. I brought the idea up to J, and she knows someone who leads English language camps; as a graduate with an English major, this is a good option.
My breathing gets more rapid, and I feel like I often do when I'm in a vehicle with other people--panicked.
But something inside me has always wanted to work at an orphanage...and EMo has also said that people are needed to just hold babies in the orphanages. Is this how God will do it? Stir me up from my comfort zone, yet fulfill my need to nurture (without compensating for my only-childness by having octuplets plus six)?
I graduate with my master's degree in May.
I'm on a 12-month pay plan for work.
Oh, God...is this the desire of my heart?
J directed me to go somewhere--go to another country for a couple weeks. My brain started thinking of the reasons why that wasn't a good idea: monetary expense, safety, direction, not knowing anyone... Sure, maybe I should go somewhere else within the States; maybe if I did that, it would appease the "leave the country" notion.
E joined our group after study and was peppered with questions about E and J's adoption of little M. He mentioned teenage girls who disappear after they grow out of the orphanage; they're taken across the sea by sex traffickers and put to "work" in Turkey.
I wanted to bring them all here--but am not in a feasible place to do that. If only I could go to them...
If only what?
The more I thought of it, the more the idea made sense--and scared me. E and J have connections in Ukraine. My friend EMo teaches at a Christian school there. I brought the idea up to J, and she knows someone who leads English language camps; as a graduate with an English major, this is a good option.
My breathing gets more rapid, and I feel like I often do when I'm in a vehicle with other people--panicked.
But something inside me has always wanted to work at an orphanage...and EMo has also said that people are needed to just hold babies in the orphanages. Is this how God will do it? Stir me up from my comfort zone, yet fulfill my need to nurture (without compensating for my only-childness by having octuplets plus six)?
I graduate with my master's degree in May.
I'm on a 12-month pay plan for work.
Oh, God...is this the desire of my heart?
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Vet has been there for me at the ends of the past three relationships, and this one is no exception. He drove an hour each way, just to hang out for a while tonight and do whatever I wanted to do. We went to a coffeeshop for a brief time to listen to a local performer, then ran to my school to see the end of its basketball game against the Vet's hometown school. (Vet's team won by one.) He asked to see my classroom and I took him on a tour; he sat and took it in, asking questions about various things he saw. (The exercise bike and the huge smiley face got his attention.)
My students saw us and asked me who he was. Boyfriend? No. Friend with potential? No. He's who a Christian brother should be. He's taught me to see myself more as God sees me than as I think others see me.
I'm praising God for the Vet's friendship--and for the other "Vets" I've had in my life.
He provides!
My students saw us and asked me who he was. Boyfriend? No. Friend with potential? No. He's who a Christian brother should be. He's taught me to see myself more as God sees me than as I think others see me.
I'm praising God for the Vet's friendship--and for the other "Vets" I've had in my life.
He provides!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The last smell of his shirt before I wash and return it via a friend...
The call of another friend: "Hey--I heard--are you doing okay? I didn't want to ask you with the others around..."
Why is it that I go through days of unfeeling despite the concerns of friends who know me better--and these are what make me cry?
It appears that if I cry enough, my nose stuffs up--and then I'm unable to smell his shirt anyway. Into the laundry it goes. Cleansing, in multiple ways...
The call of another friend: "Hey--I heard--are you doing okay? I didn't want to ask you with the others around..."
Why is it that I go through days of unfeeling despite the concerns of friends who know me better--and these are what make me cry?
It appears that if I cry enough, my nose stuffs up--and then I'm unable to smell his shirt anyway. Into the laundry it goes. Cleansing, in multiple ways...
Monday, February 09, 2009
Checklist
- Unique ringtone removed: check
- Speed dial removed: check
- Random picture messages removed: check
- Couples pictures removed from Facebook profile section: check
- Realizing that reality is not as easy as pressing "delete:" not yet...
Waiting for the Punch Line
Some things, you just know. Other things, you don't. And when those other things are big things, you wonder why you don't know.
I've been in a relationship since November, and it had its ups and downs--definitely more ups than downs, and definitely a learning experience as well. But I didn't know if it was going somewhere. Though unattended from my end, I kept my eHarm account active. I was cautious about making big plans with the boy for any upcoming holidays, because I didn't know if we'd still be together. I found doubts creeping in because something felt unsettled.
But I liked him, and I saw that God was teaching us both things throughout the process. I learned a bit about compromise, and I learned a bit about grace.
I cancelled my eHarm account a couple days ago, before it auto-renewed the day before it would tell me that it had done so.
Since he's in school, I thought up something special we could do for Valentine's Day--something that would be inexpensive and still allow him time to study.
We curled up at a movie together Friday night, and I saw him on my way home last night after being out of town for a bit. Just before I drove away, he looked at me and told me I'm an amazing woman. And I hugged him even tighter.
I thought about those creeping doubts and unsettled feelings this morning. Maybe I'm just not used to really trusting someone. And last night--last night felt _real_.
And tonight, he said we had to talk. About us.
"This isn't leading to marriage."
"Then it's done," I wanted to say, but waited.
He reminded me that he'd promised he wouldn't casually date me. We talked a bit more, and I thanked him for letting me know. He asked if I wanted him to stay on the phone and talk, or if I wanted him to let me go.
"Well, it seems you've already let me go..." I said wryly.
And I moved on. And will continue to do so. I wish these tears would stop flowing so I could go off to my meeting of the night, but they seem to keep attacking.
It's not as though he's totally gone, and I see us resuming a friendship in a few months or a year or so. I guess I'm just frustrated and tired at the thought of starting over. I'm tired of wondering where my place in the world is, especially after wondering if it would possibly be with him. I'll miss that close friendship with him, because things will be different. I'll miss his ways of thinking, which provoked me to think beyond myself.
But really--really--I think I knew. Sometimes, not knowing is a way of knowing.
I've been in a relationship since November, and it had its ups and downs--definitely more ups than downs, and definitely a learning experience as well. But I didn't know if it was going somewhere. Though unattended from my end, I kept my eHarm account active. I was cautious about making big plans with the boy for any upcoming holidays, because I didn't know if we'd still be together. I found doubts creeping in because something felt unsettled.
But I liked him, and I saw that God was teaching us both things throughout the process. I learned a bit about compromise, and I learned a bit about grace.
I cancelled my eHarm account a couple days ago, before it auto-renewed the day before it would tell me that it had done so.
Since he's in school, I thought up something special we could do for Valentine's Day--something that would be inexpensive and still allow him time to study.
We curled up at a movie together Friday night, and I saw him on my way home last night after being out of town for a bit. Just before I drove away, he looked at me and told me I'm an amazing woman. And I hugged him even tighter.
I thought about those creeping doubts and unsettled feelings this morning. Maybe I'm just not used to really trusting someone. And last night--last night felt _real_.
And tonight, he said we had to talk. About us.
"This isn't leading to marriage."
"Then it's done," I wanted to say, but waited.
He reminded me that he'd promised he wouldn't casually date me. We talked a bit more, and I thanked him for letting me know. He asked if I wanted him to stay on the phone and talk, or if I wanted him to let me go.
"Well, it seems you've already let me go..." I said wryly.
And I moved on. And will continue to do so. I wish these tears would stop flowing so I could go off to my meeting of the night, but they seem to keep attacking.
It's not as though he's totally gone, and I see us resuming a friendship in a few months or a year or so. I guess I'm just frustrated and tired at the thought of starting over. I'm tired of wondering where my place in the world is, especially after wondering if it would possibly be with him. I'll miss that close friendship with him, because things will be different. I'll miss his ways of thinking, which provoked me to think beyond myself.
But really--really--I think I knew. Sometimes, not knowing is a way of knowing.
Top Three Signs That It Wasn't Going to Work Out
3: The first present he gives you is a hockey puck.
2: His Christmas present to you is a metal water bottle.
1: He doesn't like "The Princess Bride."
2: His Christmas present to you is a metal water bottle.
1: He doesn't like "The Princess Bride."
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Imogene
Does anyone remember "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever?"
A raggedy, taggedy family of kids ends up playing the main parts in a Christmas pageant because, well, most of the other kids refuse to work so closely with them. Little Imogene Herdman, the raggediest, taggediest of them all, ends up as the declarative angel. Of all the people!
It struck me before Christmas that I work with an Imogene Herdman. She's messy, unkempt, loud... Her classmates can't stand her, and her teachers see why.
She asked me for help with printing material from my website the other day, so I walked with her to the school library to go through the process. We found the problem, and I threw in a bit of encouragement.
"[Imogene], you really do have good problem-solving skills in that brain of yours! Keep it up; you can work through a lot of problems!"
It's hard for her to maintain eye contact, but she looked up at me for a few half-seconds--enough for me to reasonably hope that the encouragement had sunk in.
The kids have the option this week to purchase ribbons which will allow them to wear hats at school. The proceeds go to finding a cure for cancer. Kids could buy a ribbon a day for $2 each, or a weeklong ribbon for $8. Yesterday, "Imogene" showed up wearing a daily one and a weekly one.
She planted herself in front of my desk, in front of me while I was trying to take attendance and get her classmates settled, and pointed out the obvious ribbons on her tacky straw cowboy hat.
"Why do you have both of them?" was all I had time to ask.
She shrugged. "It's for a good cause!"
Good point.
"Imogene" came up to me at the end of class, with the daily ribbon in her hand. "Here," she said, holding it out to me. "You can wear this one. You can pin it on your shirt. It matches your sweater!"
Oh, my little Imogene--the unconventional bearer of good tidings!
A raggedy, taggedy family of kids ends up playing the main parts in a Christmas pageant because, well, most of the other kids refuse to work so closely with them. Little Imogene Herdman, the raggediest, taggediest of them all, ends up as the declarative angel. Of all the people!
It struck me before Christmas that I work with an Imogene Herdman. She's messy, unkempt, loud... Her classmates can't stand her, and her teachers see why.
She asked me for help with printing material from my website the other day, so I walked with her to the school library to go through the process. We found the problem, and I threw in a bit of encouragement.
"[Imogene], you really do have good problem-solving skills in that brain of yours! Keep it up; you can work through a lot of problems!"
It's hard for her to maintain eye contact, but she looked up at me for a few half-seconds--enough for me to reasonably hope that the encouragement had sunk in.
The kids have the option this week to purchase ribbons which will allow them to wear hats at school. The proceeds go to finding a cure for cancer. Kids could buy a ribbon a day for $2 each, or a weeklong ribbon for $8. Yesterday, "Imogene" showed up wearing a daily one and a weekly one.
She planted herself in front of my desk, in front of me while I was trying to take attendance and get her classmates settled, and pointed out the obvious ribbons on her tacky straw cowboy hat.
"Why do you have both of them?" was all I had time to ask.
She shrugged. "It's for a good cause!"
Good point.
"Imogene" came up to me at the end of class, with the daily ribbon in her hand. "Here," she said, holding it out to me. "You can wear this one. You can pin it on your shirt. It matches your sweater!"
Oh, my little Imogene--the unconventional bearer of good tidings!
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