my hope today.

I hope. I pray.

I desperately wish that I will never let myself be built up by someone else's pain. I pray deeply that I will never benefit from another's hurt. That rather, i will hurt with them. That rather, I will take time to understand rather than to assume. That rather, I will look past my feelings and see the deep humanity found in another.

I hope. I pray.

That I might think first with a gentle heart, next with an empathetic mind, and never with spite.

Lofty. In a world of cynicism and competition. Difficult. In a place of deep confusion and unexplainable paranoia. Challenging. In a life of pride.

Completely Necessary without excuse or recompense. In order to be whole.

Love first. Love second. Love last.

chlorinated memories

I love the smell of my hands after a swim in the pool. The smell of chlorine mixed with soap reminds me of how much I loved my childhood swim team days. M-F early mornings in the cold pool with friends. Saturday mornings with Mom and Dad (and sisters). Dad judging the events and Mom working the snack bar. The awesome feeling of finishing that last relay and hoping that we made the "padonia cut". I remember that horrible summer when I was on accutane and it made me burn instantly, so I spent my Saturday meets in long sleeves, SPF 50 and a hat which I dunked completely in the diving well between events. What a hoot.

I am not a fast swimmer, nor can I swim very long. But there is just something about being in the water that makes me feel alive. Despite my layers of blubber, my imagination has me as a lanky swimmer (perhaps the body of my teen years?) and I feel free.

I sincerely hope that everyone has the "one thing" that makes them feel free, strong, and safe. So many around me are struggling with life, love, and other mysteries right now that I pray that they each have a haven of hope. Unrelated to material possessions or other people. That place where they may return.

Perhaps it is in this chlorinated freedom that I find God. In returning to me, you shall find rest, so it goes....it is almost like the return each week to the water is a return to Him, who provides that rest and security.

I wish this for all around me.

Peace today to you, dear reader.

what's my motivation here?

My dear RP and I were running this morning amongst freezing cold and icy trails and had a wonderful time of conversation. She is often the ray of sunshine to my self deprecation when it comes to our long runs. We were both suffering from lack of sleep and being pretty hard on ourselves. As we traipsed up and down the trails of the Patapsco trail system and into Lake Elkhorn, our conversation led itself into a discussion about our motivation for running. Why are we choosing our schedule? Why are we so unforgiving of ourselves when we don't run fast enough or if we feel tired? Are we running for ourselves (or even better, to glorify God) or are we running to compete against a demon (either in human form or some hidden feeling)?

We are not land speed breakers, but we hold our own. We are not skinny or sinewy but we can run 26.2 miles and handle various other physical tasks with fluency. But we are in a place in our lives where we feel as though we have to do it all "right now". Family, career, running feats, triathlon feats, social service work, leadership roles etc. etc. etc. What will happen if we don't make it all happen now? What will actually happen now?

For me, I have already seen the negative effects to trying to do to much in my running life. I have ended up injured, tired, and completely unmotivated to run. It is only now that, through a balance of running and other things, that I am enjoying running in a way that I had forgotten.

We must be willing to give ourselves permission to have a bad run, to not run a spring race, or to sleep in on any given Saturday at 7am. We must be gentle with our own bodies and souls so that we may endure the excessive pounding we put on our bodies when we do hit the road or the deal handed out to our soul when we slow down.

I envy those who can run, bike, or exercise without mental connection. Those who use this physical act to disconnect rather than to connect inward. I am so proud of running and how it has changed many parts of me, but at the end of the day I am still me. Hard on myself, competitive with others, and then again, harder on myself without regard to what life has given me on any given day. Often when dealing with myself, I think I feel that I must be infallible while I grant those around me concession for just about anything

I have made these big lofty race goals for 2008 and I hope to still go through with all of them, but if my motivation puts more hurt on my body, physically or emotionally, will this excessive work be worth it?

My motivation today? Reconnecting with a dear friend and running on trails that I haven't been on in quite some time. The result: An ankle workout over ice for 10 miles. A chance to provide comfort and guidance to a friend who puts up with all of my poo on a regular basis.

My motivation tomorrow? Well that is for tomorrow

remembering why we marathon

Tonight, the local running community all descended upon the local AMC to see The Spirit of the Marathon, a documentary about the experience of running a marathon (specifically Chicago, 2005). The movie was inspirational, funny, dramatic, and tear-jerking. It reminded me of what we go through as we prepare for and run the marathon. As we accompanied two elites and four mortals through their marathon experience, it was as if we were right there with them through the 20 milers, the early mornings, and the race day.

In this moment of my life, where I question my strength on a regular basis, this movie reminded me of what I have accomplished....seven times. At one point in the movie one of the participants said, "If I can run a marathon, I can survive anything." I am uplifted by this statement. The marathon is the most physically taxing experience I have ever had (particular this past fall) and as I embark on the most emotionally taxing experience in my life (i'm guessing), I take heart in the memory that I too, can survive anything.

stream of consciousness for the day.

In my recent attempts to understand the culture of women, trust, anger, and fear, I have started to read Mean Girls All Grown Up by Hayley DiMarco. I have had it on my bookshelf for some time, but I have finally begun to approach it. I have started my study with it knowing that as a student, I was bullied. However, I was never the target of girls in my school as displayed by many nonfiction books (Queen Bees and Wanna Bee's, Odd Girl Out, etc.) and in film, Mean Girls (based on QB&WB). I was actually bullied by boys in school, which creates an odd circumstance for now, where I navigate the waters of trust and authenticity in friendships and "enemiships" with women.
So far, I have found the book to be very interesting in how to scripturally deal with women in our lives who cause us hurt, mistrust, or anger through their actions or words. It is so often not about our action but our reaction that will cause us to be in pain. It is through our perpetuation of the negative attention that it will continue.

I find this was definitely the case in high school with my bullies. My reactions of tears or pleas for help just increased the fuel to their fire. In the end, it was graduation and a dedicated approach to ignoring their taunts well into college that enabled me to let go and encouraged them to stop.

I am so desperately saddened though, that we, in our adult years, even need books like this. I have this fictional notion of the way women should unite together, build each other up, and support one another that simply does not exist. Of course, in my close personal friendships, these things exist and thrive, but within a culture of greater "sisterhood", I can't seem to find unity.

Superchick has many amazing songs about being bullied, hurt, suffering, and various other adolescent and young adult type strife issues. But in particular, they have a song called High School. This song is the definition of what I have experienced lately. Somehow, some of us have never left the arena where we had to compete against things that are purely physical and/or materialistic. We continue, in our adulthood, to lift up ourselves through the abuse of others. It makes me so tremendously sad. In any efforts I have made to avoid these situations, it ends up appearing as I am something I am not. I cannot fully articulate what is perceived about me, I can only whisper, speak, and shout all of the things I am trying to be, regardless of their perception.

Sometimes it all feels more stressful than is worth. The vast amount of energy trying to define myself and my intentions to those who do not understand me seems so often moot. As a pleaser, I find myself digging a deeper and deeper whole trying to build a bridge that continues to be burnt down. At what point do I say to the arsonist, "enough. i have tried to please you, to understand you, to help you, to befriend you, and I have failed. I surrender."

I am hoping that through this surrender that God will help me to see the value in letting go. Obviously not my best attribute but a very clear solution to my days, months, and years worth of trying to fix, when the solution is not to fix but to forget.

nasal orchestra

the love of my life is about 2ft. long and about 18 pounds. he is currently asleep next to me and snoring quite loudly. he is heaven with fur.

a way of thinking.

This card goes with me everywhere I go and it helps me when I have no answers to my questions. It helps me realize that I may not have resolutions to the answers in my heart in my time but yet there will come a time when perhaps I will not even questions the why, how, and when of things.

While I don't think Rilke was making any references to God. I am going to take my own interpretation that God does things for the good of those whole love Him. He has answers to all of the world's great questions. He provides the hope, grace, and peace for anyone who seeks it. Instead of searching God for the reasons and answers to heartache, perhaps it better to ask God to seek me. Ask God to show me how I can best fulfill his purpose for me. I wonder if this is not maybe a better way.

This poem references a sense of trust. In the journey or the process or the way, whichever vernacular is best. But alas, when one has lost a sincere sense of trust and endures what feels like unending heartache, it seems like the last thing possible is to trust in something unseen. And there in lies faith.

Peace.

Another source of comfort

Sara Groves is perhaps the best singer song-writer I have ever encountered. I sometimes feel like she knows me as well as my best friend or my Mom and speaks right to me. This is truly a blessing from God.

I highly recommend her to anyone, Christian or not. Check out Add to the Beauty and Tell Me What You Know, in particular, if you are feeling like you are in a tough place in life's journey.

Happiness amongst Despair

I am reading a lovely book, "Listening is an Act of Love". It is a compilation of many of the interviews from StoryCorps project. I have several of the transcripts between mothers and grandmothers, aunts and nephews, brothers and sisters, etc. But last night, I read the most beautiful quote as it was transcribed from one of the speakers. It was incredibly appropriate in its timing and I can't help but think that God had his hand in my picking that book that day.

I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition.
--Martha Washington

I found this quote to be exactly what I was needing for the day. Rough waters in our daily life can some time lead to rough floods, but if we approach the waters with yellow raft in tow, we are in a much better starting position. So I must be a fully committed participant in my own happiness. I must take into account my own position and my own fault for misery. I must make a point to be cheerful or happy in my situation in order to build a bridge over the waters. (Seriously, what is up with the use of cliche)

Today, a friend told me that I didn't have to be cheerful all the time, that it was ok to show it if I was feeling some other way. In my place of work, I find this hard because I so want to put my best face forward for our children. But nevertheless, I was grateful for this permission of sorts to once in a while not to be the cheeriest of the bunch. It was nice to have a moment in which I was reminded that here, in this place, that I have friendship. He then shared with me a blog I hope to spend some time with -- The Happiness Project I hope you, dear reader of my blog, find it a source of joy or provoked thought for you.

Teaching Music to Digital Natives

Here is one of my essays for my application to the Klingenstein Summer Institute. I will hear the results in March!

Our students are affectionately known as what Marc Prensky calls “digital natives”, yet we as teachers are often “digital immigrants”. I consider myself a digital “immi-native” having grown up in a generation who learned to type on a typewriter, but who also learned to play Oregon Trail and how to use email in high school. As a teacher, I have always believed that using technology is good and useful, but until this school year, I never realized how it could transform my teaching practice.

As a music teacher, I was trained in a variety of musical pedagogies, all of which involve a tremendous amount of rote learning and passive listening. When we provide our students the opportunity to listen to music from a diverse range of historical and genre perspectives it opens new worlds. Or so we hope. In my few short years as a teacher I have found that traditional listening lessons, where students sit and listen to music, have led to very inadequate musical understanding of concepts such as pitch, instrument identification, and tempo. There is also very little visible enjoyment. Passive listening to music, however beautiful or exciting it may be, does not provide students an experience that most composers intended when writing their great works. Music is to be experienced using multiple senses-seen and heard and in many times felt. Writing prompts, historical context lessons, and movement have surely helped engage my students to listen as an experience not as an act. I felt like something was still missing.

Then, it arrived - the shiny new Epson LCD projector mounted firmly on my music room ceiling and attached to a lovely desktop PC with a high-speed connection. To my absolute delight, You Tube was not blocked by our firewall and I was able to commence a completely new way of teaching listening lessons to my elementary children. We no longer listen to each season of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons while sitting idly on the carpet. We watch as the great master Itzhak Perlman plays the Allegro section of Autumn with the Tel Aviv Symphony. This opens a new world for my children and therefore, for me, as the teacher. We explore together what we see and hear, and experience the music in what seems a new way, but is rather an age-old tradition. We transform our classroom through the use of technology.

So while I embrace the masters of music pedagogy in many ways, I believe firmly that my instruction must include technology integration. Our digital natives have come to expect it. In homage to the great masters who have written for cathedrals and concert halls, I can think of no greater gift to provide in our music listening than by using technology to recreate this experience for the students.

Stretch and Pull

Yoga was neat. I don't think that is a good way of describing it, but it wasn't what I thought it would be. This particular instructor is a practioner of Iyengar Yoga. Because so many of us were newbies (resolution junkies, I call us), she led a very basic class in which we learned some very simple poses (asanas?) including only one balance pose. The use of the straps to do stretching was not what I had anticipated and actually caused me to do more strength work. But I left feeling relaxed and loose (and sore), which I think is good.

Perhaps I will go again next week.

slightly afraid

I am going to my first yoga class in two minutes. I am slightly afraid that I will pull something or fall down ungracefully in front of a class of swans....Alas, I am fulfilling a goal to try yoga.

For those who know me and my lack of grace, please no laughing.

Full report tomorrow.

saying goodbye

I received a letter yesterday from World Vision telling me that the child I have sponsored for the last five years, Suppawat from Thailand, no longer needs my support. His family has moved out of a place of poverty and into a place of sustainability without help. I never thought I would receive a letter like this. I also didn't realize that I wouldn't have the chance to write one last letter or send one last birthday card (his birthday is January 31).

I have never been the greatest sponsor. I have send the funds monthly and signed every little "extra" that WV sends to send to the child, which are never written in Thai. But I have his picture on my desk at home and at work and on the fridge and I pray for him daily. He was a pudgy awkward ten year old and is now a tall, fit teenager. I feel as though we have been through a lot together and now without warning, it has come to an end.

I feel so blessed that God has provided for his family and that they are no longer in a position to need support. For I suppose, this is the true goal. I will continue to pray, and at some point, choose a new child to support. But Suppawat will forever remain my "first born".

what would you do if you were not afraid?

In her thought-provoking sermon today, Rev. Mary Eliot of Christ Church Columbia, reminded us of a question asked at the Advent meditation day in early December.

"What you would do if you were not afraid?"

Afraid of failing, afraid of loss, afraid of response.....

She made connections from this journey through towards the journey of the Magi to seen the newborn Jesus and the fear in the heart of King Herod. Perhaps I am getting her message all wrong, but I could not get past the first question, "what would you do if you were not afraid"

It is this concept of fear that I think prevents me (and so many) from even starting something. Or stops us mid way when we see we might fail. But what is failure? I believe it is the end of one journey and the start of a new one. We simply must embrace failure in small and large doses as a gift that God gives us as part of free will. We are able to learn, to experience, to grow because of these failures. It is only when we do not look at these failures as learning opportunities that we actually fail in the "end".

So many times in my life I have not done something because of an innate fear of failure. Most notably, not pursuing an opera degree and taking several "safe" jobs. But in those times in which I have jumped over the open water and taken risks or tried something out of the ordinary, it has caused me to stretch beyond who I think I am and grow towards becoming what God wishes me to be. This is a great gift.

So as I look ahead in 2008, what will I do when I am posed with the question "what would you do if you were not afraid?"

the church needs some xanax

I have read on a few other Episcopal-y type blogs about an uproar over the Presiding Bishop's Christmas card. Particularly, an article from the Episcopal Cafe which shares the Diocese of Fort Worth's opinion on the matter. While I can understand the point of DoFW with regards to their fear of continual polarization within TEC and the greater Anglican Communion, I feel that this entire things needs a stern look and a "Seriously?".

In our day when we are struggling with famine, war and atrocities all over the globe, with continued religious persecution, discrimination, financial disparity and countless other systemic issues, are we seriously writing memos of concern over a Christmas card that features women rather than men in adoration of our Christ Jesus? Have we also not come to understand over thousands of years that art is meant to stir the emotions and depict an artists interpretation or celebration, but yet at the core of the matter it is art, not fact?

Our church is under so much scrutiny that it makes being a member of the body that much more difficult. If our simple goal is to follow Jesus and to love one another that is the criticism of a Christmas card the right battle to pick? Isn't about time that our denomination embrace the unity of the church rather than the disparity? Frankly, isn't it time that our angry brothers and sisters take a little xanax, so to speak, and embrace our similarities, our shared beliefs and in this case, let art be art.

there is hope

Today my fourth grade boys gave me hope. I was feeling a little down with the emphasis on the materialism (guess how many kids got an Ipod or cell phone for Christmas?) and the Redskins (who apparently reign supreme in our school). I was feeling like we had come back to school without the renewal of hope that Christmas is supposed to bring that is until I caught wind of a fourth grade boys discussion......

Here is my abbreviated version:
"Did you hear about Britney Spears?"
"Yes, she is messed up."
"You know about her sister, right?"
"Yup, she's pregnant and she is NOT married and she is only 16"
"I heard her boyfriend dumped her"

I giggled a bit but a few minutes later when I still heard them speaking about it, I jumped in. (The ever nosy teacher)

"So what do you think about it?" says Nosy Teacher

Boys Reply....
"They canceled Jami's show, because she is not a good example."
"They need to get some help for their family"
"She isn't even married and you think she would have learned to make better choices by watching her sister"
"I hope that they can learn to be okay as a family"

I walked away feeling proud of the fact that while the boys were dwelling on E! channel idle gossip that at least they were making connections to poor choices and rather than make truly hurtful judgments about the situation, such as calling rude names or the like, showing some sort of empathy (on a boy like fourth grade level). They also demonstrated to me that they understand that people make destructive choices and that those who do should not be rewarded with say...extensions on their tv contract for a show that is on Nickelodeon, which caters to the tween set. It was high level thinking as far as I'm concerned and it gave me hope.