I’ve been having a lot of crazy dreams lately. I’m not sure if it’s the change in weather or what, but it’s almost like I’ve been living some sort of surreal double-life. It takes me a few seconds in the morning to snap out of whatever dimension I’ve been in. I used to keep a dream journal and analyze all of my nightly mind-wanderings, but then I had kids and time became of the essence. Yet this dream from the other night has stayed with me, for I found a profound message within it.

In my dream, I rehearsing music for a praise band. There were three of us singing. Although I knew both of the other women, I can’t remember who they were. There was a storm raging outside, and at one point one of the other women stopped practicing and went to look at the storm out the window. She quieted us and told us to listen. I began feeling anxious and asked her if she heard the tornado sirens going off.
“No,” she responded. “This is what I heard the last time I saw an angel appear.”
At that moment, the sheet music she had been using began to shimmer, and a beautiful white light came through as if a spotlight was shining from below. In that instant, we three fell to our knees, overcome with the sensation that we were in the presence of something holy. We each began to pray aloud, our voices joining together and culminating in the praise song we had previously been rhearsing. My heart was full to bursting with a joy that could only be shown through praise and thanksgiving.

As the song finished, the light faded, and rejoicing, we stepped outside. Traffic was stopped, people everywhere were smiling and greeting one another as friends. It seemed that everyone around us had experienced the same miraculous event. We were so excited to share our experiences that we ran off in different directions to spread the joy to all those we saw.

In thinking about this dream, I began to recall the Advent study we are doing at church; The Advent Conspiracy. The point of this study is that we, as Christians, must move past the commercialism and consumerism that has become Christmas, to experience afresh the wonder and joy of celebrating Christ’s birth. The first tenet of the conspiracy is to worship fully. The authors look at Luke 2: 8-20 where the shepherds are greeted by the angels announcing the Savior’s birth. The shepherds were a group of people who were marginalized from the rest of society. Yet after the appearance of the heavenly host, they went to the Mary and Joseph to worship Jesus. And after being in the presence of the Christ child, they joyfully ran to spread the news that the Messiah had come to the towns and villages around. They broke through the chains of class and station to spread a message of love and hope. They were joy-full.

In my dream, I was like the shepherds. I was so full of joy at the love of God that I wanted to go out and share it with everyone I met. I was sad when I woke up in the morning and realized it had all been a dream. But in reality, it wasn’t. The joy of Christ’s birth is there, everyday. There’s a story of hope for today, for people who need to know love, to know joy, to know redemption. I want to be as excited about God when I’m awake as I am when I’m asleep. I want to stand up and tell people I meet, “Hey, God is here, now, and he wants to make a difference. He wants to change your life. He wants to set you free.”

Christmas is about spreading joy. What a crazy dream!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I love hot showers. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to get icky. I just love hot showers. Hot showers to me in the morning are what a strong cup of fresh-brewed coffee is to other people. Enveloped in steam, my brain begins to un-fog from sleep. I contemplate the day ahead, rejuvenate, think through lessons and conversations, contemplate theology, pray. I don’t know what it is, but I do some of my best and most creative thinking in the shower. It must be all of the positive ions floating around. Regardless, for almost twenty years, I have greeted each new day with a hot shower. It has always puzzled me how other people can get up in the morning and go without a hot shower. And then I realized, THEY HAVE CHILDREN!!!

When you have two toddlers running around the house, you don’t even get to pee in privacy, let alone take a contemplative shower. I’ve found that children come with some sort of built-in Mommy radar that alerts them whenever you get out of bed. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve turned the shower on to warm up, only to have to turn it off again thirty seconds later because someone is calling, “Mama! Mama! Mahhhhmahhh!” Hot showers have become a true luxury for me, for even when I manage to get into the shower and wash, it is interspersed with yells into the bathroom of: “Garrett, get out of the dog’s crate!”, “Stephen, put that down!”, “Get your brother out of the toilet!”, “Bring those towels back, dog!” Then there’s the trick of shaving your legs with one hand while holding the shower door closed with the other to prevent your 1 and1/2 year old from letting the puppy in and saying hello. My water refuge has become anything but.

So where does that leave me? Like so many other parents of toddlers, the coffee maker has become my new best friend. I stick to decaf, mostly, but am absolutely addicted to CoffeeMate. While it doesn’t surround me with positive ions, my morning cup of coffee steams my face, allows me to breathe deeply of pleasing aromas, and clears my head of the previous night’s sleep. All in all, not a completely bad trade-off. And, I still have my hair straightener. Thank God for the Chi and Bath and Body body mist!! Yet the most wonderful part of giving up my morning shower ritual–3o extra minutes of sleep!!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Our family celebrated the hunting season this year in two very different ways. Chris and his father took some guns out into a cow pasture and shot at a deer. The deer survived, which should make PETA happy, but I was secretly hoping for a freezer full of deer meat for the winter. It was the first time Chris and his dad had the opportunity to hunt in 15 years. Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate so they only had the one shot. But, it’s the experience that counts, right?

In the meantime, they boys, Chris’ mom and I went to Joplin to do some hunting of our own. We hit a Target and came away with some good stuff, but it wasn’t quite a bullseye. So, we tried our luck at Toys R’ Us and came away with the kill. With one shot we got Christmas outfits and dress shoes for the boys and a new stroller for Stephen. All in all, it was a very successful trip. We feasted afterward on soup, salad and breadsticks at the Olive Garden–the quintessential meal for all dedicated hunters!!

One of the beautiful aspects of this holiday shopping season for me is that I’m not really doing any of it. Our family decided this year that instead of investing in stuff, we were going to invest in time. We’ve rented a condo in Branson for a few days around New Year’s Eve in lieu of buying Christmas gifts for one another. My parents, my sister and her husband, Chris’ parents and his brother will all be gathering for the occasion. I’m really excited. I think it will be a nice getaway in the midst of what always becomes a crazy season.

Don’t get me wrong, I love gifts, both giving and getting. But, they need to be given for the right reasons, not because retailers need to make a profit. Chris was reading a new book by pastor Mike Slaughter in which Slaughter states, “Christmas is about Jesus’ birthday. It’s not about yours.” We’ve lost that as a culture somewhere along the line. And I would like for my children to grow up with a different perspective. I would like to grow into a different perspective. So forget gifts this year. Instead, celebrate life. That’s what it’s all about anyway. So happy hunting in your quest for Christmas meaning.

As always,
Blessings and Peace,
Sara
Sara

I stepped in dog poop with my bare foot this morning. It was gross. Really gross. But the plus was that I figured it couldn’t get much worse than that throughout the day. And, other skidding into work two minutes before the first tardy bell, it really hasn’t been that bad. Stephen woke up around five something this morning. We were sleeping in the recliner, which was fine because I’ve had a cough for a week now that I can’t get rid of. He played for awhile, crawling on and off the recliner, then when Chris came out to tell me my alarm was going off Stephen decided it was time to sleep. So, he grabbed his blanket, climbed up onto the recliner, laid down, and fell back to sleep. Classic Stephen.

I was thinking as I was pulling into the parking lot at school this morning, “This is my life. This–rushing Garrett out the door in the morning with a cup of coffee in one hand and a can of soup in the other, flying into school in the nick of time, scrambling to wrap my head around what I need to teach through three subjects, flying out of school with who knows what, rushing Garrett back into the car, and heading toward home where there’s snack, dinner, bath, jammies, and bed. This is my life.” And you know what? I love it. I love it!! This is what it’s supposed to be about. There’s no big thing to do, no greatness to be achieved (thank you Beth Moore). There’s just me taking God’s hand and walking through the day.

That’s not to say that there’s no purpose in life. There’s tremendous purpose in life. There’s a kingdom to be built, and all that we do should be focused on building it. But we build it everyday, in our everyday encounters, our everyday conversations, our everyday actions and routines. We build it when we say hello with a smile to people we greet in the morning. We build it when we give an encouraging hug or word to someone who might need it. We build it when we pray with our children before meals. We build it when we give someone else the right of way. We build it when we say “thank you” and mean it. We build it when we say, “I understand what you’re going through”. We build it when we laugh with others. We build it when we cry with others. We build it when we say, even in the midst of a foot covered in dog poop, “Thank you God, so much, for this day.”

This is just another day, and I couldn’t ask for more.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

At the beginning of this school year, all of the teachers in our district were given a copy of the book, How Full Is Your Bucket?. The purpose of this was to foster a community of positive encouragement and appreciation. We, as a faculty, are continuously called to build up our colleagues and our students by offering praise and recognition for work well done. I’ve realized recently that I have gotten behind in the area of bucket filling, in one area probably more than others. After the busy-ness of the day, I often fail to truly appreciate my husband. And there is a lot to appreciate.

Chris is a wonderful husband. He takes care of so much around the house and I hardly ever stop to even say, “thank you.” Chris eats lunch at home most days to save money, let the dogs out, and clean up the kitchen. He also does most of the cooking, laundry and takes out the trash. On top of that, it is his responsibility to get Stephen (prior to this year both Garrett and Stephen) ready in the morning and out the door to the sitters, picking him back up on his way home from work. A full day’s work, I might add. Then he gets me, his lovely wife, sauntering in the door after school, scattering all of her stuff throughout the house as she makes a path to the bedroom to change, asking “What do you want for dinner”? by way of a “Hi, it’s nice to see you. How was your day?”

After making dinner, Chris will often clean up as well while I go play with the boys and get them dressed for bed. Chris then gets the job of putting at least one of the boys to sleep, since Stephen will not go to sleep for me and Garrett is 50-50. Then, once the boys are in bed, he waters the animals, takes the dogs out, makes sure they’re fed, and goes to bed with only half of the covers because I take them all.

And that’s just a normal day! There are times when Chris does even more than that. For instance, a few weeks ago I fell asleep on the couch while making cookies for a snack day at work. Instead of waking me up, Chris finished baking the cookies, took them out of the oven, put them into a container, and brought me my medicine with a glass of water. This past week, when I wasn’t feeling well, Chris sent me to bed at 7:30, cleaned up dinner, took care of the animals , and put both the boys to bed on his own. He also got up in the middle of the night with Stephen and took him to sleep in the spare room so I could get some rest.

I have a truly wonderful husband. Why he continues to put up with me I have no idea. But I’m very grateful that he does. I know Chris isn’t perfect, no one is. But he gives 110% of himself always. He deserves a little recognition now and then. So, thank you Chris. I love you!!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

I was driving to work this morning. It was raining, again. It was dark. It was Thursday. Stephen was up in the middle of the night playing, again. The end result of which he was tired and cranky this morning. Between the two boys and myself, I’m not sure there was one moment before I left the house this morning where someone was not throwing a fit. On top of it, I’ve developed an obnoxious head cold which has left me even more run down, cranky and achy. So, on my dreary, wet, cold drive to work this morning, I decided to have a nice little pity party. I was mad and frustrated with everything, feeling overwhelmed. I was about to yell out to God, “I’m too tired for this!” when I heard a song playing on my morning radio station (90.7 K-Love “pahwsitive” Christian Music”). It was a Mark Schultz song about a mother praying over a son who is seriously ill. The DJ came on afterward to say that the song was written for some friends of Schultz’s whose son had been battling cancer but was now in remission.

Let me tell you, I felt that God was whacking me over the head with that one. “Hey, Pity-Party-Patty–snap out of it!! There will be no pity parties on my watch! Get it together, girl. We’ve got a full day ahead. And don’t talk to me about being tired. You don’t even know tired yet! Be thankful you got to play with your son, even if it was at 3 A.M. Your children are gifts. Enjoy them. And why are you getting stressed out anyway? Don’t you know by now that I’ve got you covered? Forget tired. Forget frustrated. Forget rising blood pressure. Focus on me. I’ve walked the path ahead of you. Trust me, I know where we’re going. “

After that, I managed to get out of my head for a little while and really focus on the world around me. I focused on Garrett, talking to me continuously about riding to school in Stephen’s car seat. I focused on my lessons, and on the students I would be interacting with shortly. I focused on the music, praising God for the rainy, dreary day to live.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Before reading further, I need to warn you that I am about to commit English heresy. If you’re a traditionalist when it comes to the English canon you should probably stop reading now. I’ve been thinking recently, as we approach our Shakespeare unit in English IV, that I don’t want to read an entire Shakespearean play with my Seniors. (WHAT!?) You heard me right. I’m considering reading one or two scenes and then just watching a film. (So this is what’s wrong with the American educational system these days!!) There is much sound reasoning behind this thought. Let me break it down.

1. The language barrier: American English is so far removed from Shakespearean English that it is truly like reading in another language for the students. I don’t know if we’re evolving or devolving, but the kids just do not get the language. Therefore, they can’t move on to comprehension of the text.

2. The relevance issue: Any student of English literature knows that the plot lines and characters in Shakespearean plays can transcend any time or generation. But, the kids don’t get that. They think, “Oh, another old, dead white guy. Who cares?” My students want to read about characters who are like them and situations they are going through now. They want new and contemporary. And they don’t want people speaking in rhymes!

3. The skills issue: The point of teaching English is to help students analyze, evaluate, problem-solve, reason, and write effectively. Do they really have to read Shakespeare in order to do those things? There are plenty of contemporary pieces of writing they can read, comprehend, enjoy and use to build these skills. Knowing Shakespeare is not going to make a phenomenal difference in their lives.

I know what you’re thinking, “It’s Shakespeare! They have to know Shakespeare! He’s everywhere!” While it’s true that there are many Shakespearean references and allusions built into contemporary media and artistic endeavors, the question is whether or not our kids need to understand those references and allusions to appreciate the media or artwork. Is it necessary to the growth of their persons? And, as much as I personally love Shakespeare, I would say (begrudgingly) no.

Here’s the other plus for me. If we only read an excerpt from a play, we can cover more than one. We can hit Much Ado About Nothing and Hamlet. They’re getting more than they would from a unit in which they would read an entire play. And, I don’t have to hear them whine and complain.

To Shakespeare, or not to Shakespeare? That is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous Senior whining , or to take arms against the sea of rebellion, and by watching film, end them?

It is a question for the ages:-) Let me know what you think!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Chris and I came back from an amazing trip yesterday to be greeted again by business, chaos, and discontent. Thank God I am going through Beth Moore’s Esther study right now because she is speaking right to me!! I had a moment last night when I thought, again, “I’m done with this crap!! Where is God and why, WHY, isn’t he doing more!?” Granted, I was sleep-deprived and beginning to feel a little overwhelmed as I tried to get my head around lessons for today, organize my parent-teacher conferences, and deal with a tired boy. I kept remembering what we’ve already gone over in Esther, that when God seems farthest away, he’s working on something big. Something big is happening. God is creating a new spirit within our church congregation. We had a great service of confession and healing yesterday. My mom noticed how much friendlier and open people seemed. So, God is working. But even with that, there is still discontent. There are still people hanging on to hurt and anger, still harping and arguing, still fighting and hurting. And I’m just so tired of it.

I’m also tired of my Senior’s attitudes at school. I love these kids. I’ve had some of them in class for three years. But they’re getting so gripey and lazy and snippy. I totally lost it and yelled at them this morning when they were complaining about a performance assignment they had to do we’d been working on for a week and a half. I made it up to them, but only after telling them to grow up, that they were Seniors and they had the attitude of Freshmen. Seriously, a person can only take so much!!

But, I love them. And I love our church. And a friend of mine is making coffee so I’m going to go grab a cup before English III. Hopefully, my Juniors will not have to experience the “wrath of SSS”!

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Chris and I returned home yesterday from a whirlwind trip to Norman, OK for the U2 concert and boy, was it worth it! What an awesome concert! I can’t even begin to describe the stage set-up, but it was as wide as a football stadium and about eighty feet tall. There’s a reason the band is only playing open stadiums! Even with the big set, humongous video screen, and 50,000 people, the concert seemed very intimate. The band had the ability to reach out and connect with everyone in the audience. Bono spoke as if he were speaking to a handful of people in his living room. The music flowed continuously for two hours. It was amazing, phenomenal, and inspiring. Two things I realized while at the concert: 1) Bono truly has a nice singing voice–very smooth, 2) The Edge is a truly gifted guitarist. As my husband said, “he rocked it out”!

I’ve been to good concerts before, but I can’t think of one that has topped this. It was just a great musical experience. The band came to play, and that’s pretty much all they did. There wasn’t a lot of showmanship, just four guys and their instruments having fun playing a gig–great, Great, GREAT.

The other great part of the trip was sharing it with our friends Bill and Jennifer. We had great conversation on our long car ride. We covered everything from kids to work, theology to food and the snippiness of “Helga” the Garmin’s attitude–sometimes within the same thirty-second interval! It made me realize the importance of having quality time with other adults away from kids!! In a nutshell, we went on a road trip. And it was fun.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Fall is by far my favorite season. I love the crispness in the air, the slight tingle in my cheeks as I walk outside, the deep smell of the earth as its goods are harvested, the woody scent of firesides. I love the vibrant colors–deep reds, bright yellows, russet oranges all accented by the golden light that filters through the trees. I love the sounds–the crunch of the leaves under my feet, the coaches whistle and plays called at football games, the drum beats and horn blasts of the marching band practicing in the early morning. Some associate Fall with dying, but I see it more as a beginning. A new school year, the advent of the holiday season, a time to rest, reflect and draw closer to those around us.

In honor of the first day of Fall, I’d like to leave you with one of my favorite Fall poems, “To Autumn” by Keats. I think he says it much better than I ever can.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara