Hello friends!
Heavenly Father, you gave us Your Word in the bible and just like the Centurion in the gospel today said, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed." My faith in You is strong, and I know that You touch everyone, pagan and believer alike, and that You are in all things, with Your Holiness, Your Love, and Your Peace. Thank You for Your many blessings, In Jesus' Name. Amen.
As soon as I realize I can't handle the stress in my life, I laugh, and think to myself, "I'm not supposed to handle the stress in my life, God is supposed to be handling my stress." And I promptly hand over my worries to Him.
As Saint Paul once said, "It is in my weakness that I am strong." Now I understand what he meant.
This is a wonderful song by TobyMac, formerly of DC Talk, and I find it comforting when things aren't going like I think they should be going. Even if you aren't in any kind of turmoil, may it bring you enjoyment.
"Atmosphere"
I know you keep a journal and every page is rippled
From the tears that you cry, ain't no meanin' to your scribble
Cause words can't describe what you've been feelin' inside
It's like thousand foot walls, and they're still on the rise
But look up to a beautiful sound
And see for yourself you're not that far down
And know this, I cannot love a little
My promise to you is unconditional
And I'll keep the light on for you,
Just keep the course, you can weather the storm
I'll keep the light on for you,
You've come this far, don't you ever lose heart, now
Just turn around and I'll be there
I'm moving into your atmosphere
Just turn around and I'll be there
I'm moving into your atmosphere
I know you're all alone in a crowd of your friends
I can see it in your eyes that your fadin' again
Checking out, moving into your hole
Where the light can't touch any part of your soul
But hold up and let the river rush in
You can turn around and start livin' again
Cause your life is a beautiful bloom
In the image of the one that created you
And I'll keep the light on for you,
Just keep the course, you can weather the storm
I'll keep the light on for you,
You've come this far, don't you ever lose heart, now
Just turn around and I'll be there
I'm moving into your atmosphere
Just turn around and I'll be there
I'm moving into your atmosphere
I'll be there
Said I'll be there, said I'll be there
Said I'll be there always, forever
Just turn around and I'll be there,
I said I'll be there always forever
I'm movin' into your atmosphere
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father's day came early
Hello friends,
The Lord is blessing each and every eye reading this blog and providing for all of their needs: spiritual, physical, mental, and emotional. In Jesus' Name. Amen.
My family took a mini-vacay to the Galveston/Houston area, to visit my father's grave site in Houston, at the Veteran's Memorial Cemetery.
Since Carlton is off on Tr's, and the hotel in Houston was booked for Friday, I suggested a ride to Galveston b/c I absolutely adore the beach.
As I stood admiring the vastness of the ocean, I was reminded of my father. He loved the water just as much as me. While I was reminiscing, a man who looked like my father suddenly appeared in the water. The stranger startled me, but then, unexpectantly, I found comfort in his appearance. As he got closer to me, of course there was no resemblance, but that was okay. I understood the God wink.
We decided to visit dad's resting place on our way out of the city, Sunday afternoon.
The thought of visiting my father's tombstone at the end of the trip hung over me.
He died twenty years ago, at the age of fifty-three, when I was twenty-two. My father was the consummate 'bad boy,' really. Oddly enough, I consider myself more like my father than my mother; not that I'm a 'bad girl,' - far from it - but in his attitude about life and living. His excesses in drinking and smoking aside, I saw a man who was fond of his family and friends. He used to talk to my older cousins for hours; I was too young to understand what they talked about, but my cousins loved to be around my father, so I imagine the conversations were endearing.
I specifically remember one time when my cousin's bf came to pick her up for a date. The bf had stopped in front of the house and honked for my cousin to come outside. My father found this behavior deplorable. He walked to the car and said to the young man, "You need to park the car, go to the door, and walk her to your car."
He once told me to 'never forget where I come from,' and I haven't. But I like to think that my dad didn't just want me to remember the meek start I had in life; he wanted me to remember that money doesn't make a person happy. Family and friends, these are the places where happiness resides.
Miss you, dad. Thanks for teaching me important lessons in life.
Happy Father's day, family and friends. Thank you for being a part of my life.
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
The Lord is blessing each and every eye reading this blog and providing for all of their needs: spiritual, physical, mental, and emotional. In Jesus' Name. Amen.
My family took a mini-vacay to the Galveston/Houston area, to visit my father's grave site in Houston, at the Veteran's Memorial Cemetery.
Since Carlton is off on Tr's, and the hotel in Houston was booked for Friday, I suggested a ride to Galveston b/c I absolutely adore the beach.
As I stood admiring the vastness of the ocean, I was reminded of my father. He loved the water just as much as me. While I was reminiscing, a man who looked like my father suddenly appeared in the water. The stranger startled me, but then, unexpectantly, I found comfort in his appearance. As he got closer to me, of course there was no resemblance, but that was okay. I understood the God wink.
The thought of visiting my father's tombstone at the end of the trip hung over me.
He died twenty years ago, at the age of fifty-three, when I was twenty-two. My father was the consummate 'bad boy,' really. Oddly enough, I consider myself more like my father than my mother; not that I'm a 'bad girl,' - far from it - but in his attitude about life and living. His excesses in drinking and smoking aside, I saw a man who was fond of his family and friends. He used to talk to my older cousins for hours; I was too young to understand what they talked about, but my cousins loved to be around my father, so I imagine the conversations were endearing.
I specifically remember one time when my cousin's bf came to pick her up for a date. The bf had stopped in front of the house and honked for my cousin to come outside. My father found this behavior deplorable. He walked to the car and said to the young man, "You need to park the car, go to the door, and walk her to your car."
He once told me to 'never forget where I come from,' and I haven't. But I like to think that my dad didn't just want me to remember the meek start I had in life; he wanted me to remember that money doesn't make a person happy. Family and friends, these are the places where happiness resides.
Miss you, dad. Thanks for teaching me important lessons in life.
Happy Father's day, family and friends. Thank you for being a part of my life.
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
Monday, June 13, 2011
It's the Reve effect - sometimes this happens
Hello friends,
Heavenly Father, this is a special prayer for all marriages everywhere, but esp for BD's. Let Your Will be done, Lord. Your Will. In Jesus' Name. Amen.
A decade ago, I promised myself I’d visit anew city in the U.S. New Orleans
My eyes fell on “Haunted History Tours!” (HHT’s!).
Heavenly Father, this is a special prayer for all marriages everywhere, but esp for BD's. Let Your Will be done, Lord. Your Will. In Jesus' Name. Amen.
A decade ago, I promised myself I’d visit a
My eyes fell on “Haunted History Tours!” (HHT’s!).
At nine o’clock, we joined a large crowd of people in front of a voo-doo shop. Two men were on a stage in front of the store. One of the men was rallying the crowd to take his HHT. He succeeded, as half the group left with him.
The other cajoling young man, who boldly told us his name was Reve, was dressed like French aristocracy, and somehow his shoulder-length brown hair complimented his attire. He was handsome; six feet tall, with high check bones and an angular face. Something about Reve’s demeanor, passion, and animation resonated with my own sense of adventure.
As we began the tour, I noticed Reve slowing his pace, as if he were going to make a comment to me, and glancing at me often.
I was mystified by him.
At the drinkery where the tour took a break, I didn’t have to look across the bar to know Reve was staring at me intently – his gaze carried heat.
“Oh! You all are friends!” Reve suddenly blurts out as he walks around the bar and joins Roger and me. Reve and I immediately fall into rather lively chatter about the tour, and N.O. in general.
After the tour, and after Roger has given Reve a tip, he informs me, “Reve is having a drink with us.”
“Oh?” I grin innocently.
We walk with Reve to a pirate-decorated hang-out. As Reve’s face flirtatiously floats dangerously close to mine, I wonder how Reve thinks this evening will end. I bet our stories don’t match.
Reve grabs my hand and pulls me into what appears to be a small prison cell, complete with bars, but no doors. He and I snugly sit next to each other, but as Reve leans in for a kiss, I move across from him. His left eyebrow arches.
I laugh at him light-heartedly.
At the end of the evening, Reve and I exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch.
It’s Fall before I see him again.
Roger returns with me to N.O., and Reve picks us up from the airport.
The wonderful rapport between Reve and I re-connects us easily.
Reve tells us that he doesn’t have the job with the HHT company anymore, and that he has been looking for work.
Before we arrive at Reve’s house, he takes us on a four-wheeling escapade through a dirt parking lot. Pure exhilaration! We are all laughing as the truck jerks and shakes us through the rough motions of Reve’s handling.
Reve’s house has two lamps light by fire on either side of the door. It gives the house a dreamy feel. Roger and I unpack.
Reve makes us Jambalaya for lunch. His house is a wreck: an enormous amount of dishes are in the sink, and the kitchen is in general disarray. My heart is moved with compassion as I see evidence of depression in other corners of the house.
Roger and I begin cleaning up the place for Reve, mostly focusing on the kitchen. Reve is in his room tidying up, and playing music while each of us cleans. At one point, when I’m approaching Reve’s room to ask him where a particular Tupperware container goes, I abruptly hear the first few notes of a song by my favorite band. When I reach Reve’s room, piqued with anticipation, he smiles broadly at me. I am pleased he remembered, from just a few conversations between us, that this is my preferred band.
Roger and I want to go to the French Quarter for the evening, but this isn’t such a great idea to Reve.
“Since leaving my job, I’d rather avoid some of the people down there.”
Roger is okay going by himself to the FQ, while Reve and I go to a private party.
Upon dropping Roger off, Reve declares, “I know why you brought Roger.”
“Really, why?”
“So that you and I don’t ‘do’ anything.” He smirks.
Silence.
“Hey, would you like to drive my truck?”
“What?!...No.”
Too late. Reve is already in an empty lot, out of the truck, and waiting beside the passenger’s side seat for me to get into the driver’s seat.
Reve’s truck is a beast! It is an 80’s Ford Bronco, which is huge! I am fairly tall, but behind the wheel of this vehicle I felt like a gnome. Reve thoroughly enjoys my discomfort, but I determinedly handle the creature with grace and recklessness.
It’s time to pick Roger up from the FQ. Reve holds my hand as we drive downtown.
Reve has Roger drive us home, and then he settles in next to me in the back seat. I nestle my head on Reve’s shoulder, and soon I am sleepily leaning on him; he wraps an arm around me.
Back at Reve’s house, when we’re getting ready for bed, I inform Reve, “I saw a spare bedroom beside the kitchen; I’ll be sleeping there tonight.” Reve looks at me curiously. I leave the room, change into my pajamas, and climb into bed. Ten minutes later, I feel Reve crawl into bed with me. Thankfully, he is a complete gentleman, and we fall asleep fairly quickly.
In the morning, Reve states, “I remembered the reason I don’t sleep in this room. This bed is awful!”
At the airport the next morning, as Reve grabs my suitcase from the truck, I wrap myself tighter in my long, black cloak of a coat, pulling the hood over my head as tiny snowflakes begin to fall.
Reve and I hug our good-byes.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
EOY - End of the School Year
Hello friends,
May God bless each and every person reading this sentence! In Jesus' Name. Amen
For anyone who has ever wondered what a teacher feels and thinks at the end of the school year, here is a tiny, minuscule, peek into this particular elementary teacher's world:
I usually don't have time to reflect on the year until the week before the end of the school year and that's when I started this blog - a week ago.
My reminiscing begins with the first time I met the students.
A class of 21 students was being divided and on the afternoon I met my eleven students, they practically raced into the room, carrying their desks and things, flanked by their current teacher. They were wild-eyed, rowdy, and ready to play. Laughter and giggles filled the room. They noisily put their desks down, not really taking notice of me, but looking around the room. My initial response was to tell them to be quiet and sit down, but they were still with their former teacher, and I didn't want to override her authority. She spoke to them sharply, but they still didn't seem to calm down, and then they were gone. I felt like a few tornadoes had visited the room.
In that first week the students were with me, I was stern, and didn't accept any kind of silliness from them. Poor things. They had looks of horror on their faces as they realized "nutty" classroom time was done.
The hard work began.
Two of my students, a boy, MK and a girl, PS, hated Math.
One of the students, a girl, GD, shut down when she was frustrated by anything, in addition to being a huge grouch in the mornings.
Three of my boys, AS, MC, and HA, were highly immature and lazy.
Fortunately I had four girls, DP, RC, SB, DJ, and one boy, AE, who were bright, and only needed minimum guidance. They learned well by themselves, and this enabled me to work one-on-one with the harder to reach children.
Before Christmas break (yes, I said Christmas), one of my students, PS, moved to another school. Darn it too, she was just starting to work for me.
Except for the five that were independent learners, I kept the others in after school tutoring Mon, Tues, and Tr.; I was skeptical about how much the tutoring was helping...
Right around Spring Break, my boys began to have problems at recess: fighting. As a punishment, one received out of school suspension; the others had no recess for a week. Ugh. One of the boys, EA, was then transferred to another class.
I was down to nine students.
I started having lunch with my students: boys on one day, girls on another. We began to bond on a personal level. I found out about their home lives. Well, the girls talked about their home lives, the boys were obsessed with pirahnas, lol. Although, one boy, HA, would occassionaly ask me a question about me; he wanted to know what I did on the weekends, etc.
This small act, having lunch with the students, took care of the fighting at recess, in addition to making us all closer.
Okay, so they took the state exams.
Out of the nine, 7 passed the Reading exam. Two were commended. (100%)
Out of the nine, 8 passed the Math exam. Again, two were commended.
All in all, it was a mixed year, but a good one.
GD, the little girl who didn't like Math, who hardly ever turned in her homework, or kept up with any papers, gave me the following note on the next to the last day of school:
At the top was written, "G's information about summer."
"Ms. Bush, I will miss you very much. I was going to tell you what an adventure I'm going to have on summer. I am going to Mexico with my cousins, and my tia, then to my cousin's house. I will really miss you. I can't stay away from you, but I will still remember you, in my hart. it's like your an angle. I will really miss you. may god bless you.
Sincerely, G"
This made the year fantastic. (GD drew the following 'angle' on her note to me):
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
May God bless each and every person reading this sentence! In Jesus' Name. Amen
For anyone who has ever wondered what a teacher feels and thinks at the end of the school year, here is a tiny, minuscule, peek into this particular elementary teacher's world:
I usually don't have time to reflect on the year until the week before the end of the school year and that's when I started this blog - a week ago.
My reminiscing begins with the first time I met the students.
A class of 21 students was being divided and on the afternoon I met my eleven students, they practically raced into the room, carrying their desks and things, flanked by their current teacher. They were wild-eyed, rowdy, and ready to play. Laughter and giggles filled the room. They noisily put their desks down, not really taking notice of me, but looking around the room. My initial response was to tell them to be quiet and sit down, but they were still with their former teacher, and I didn't want to override her authority. She spoke to them sharply, but they still didn't seem to calm down, and then they were gone. I felt like a few tornadoes had visited the room.
In that first week the students were with me, I was stern, and didn't accept any kind of silliness from them. Poor things. They had looks of horror on their faces as they realized "nutty" classroom time was done.
The hard work began.
Two of my students, a boy, MK and a girl, PS, hated Math.
One of the students, a girl, GD, shut down when she was frustrated by anything, in addition to being a huge grouch in the mornings.
Three of my boys, AS, MC, and HA, were highly immature and lazy.
Fortunately I had four girls, DP, RC, SB, DJ, and one boy, AE, who were bright, and only needed minimum guidance. They learned well by themselves, and this enabled me to work one-on-one with the harder to reach children.
Before Christmas break (yes, I said Christmas), one of my students, PS, moved to another school. Darn it too, she was just starting to work for me.
Except for the five that were independent learners, I kept the others in after school tutoring Mon, Tues, and Tr.; I was skeptical about how much the tutoring was helping...
Right around Spring Break, my boys began to have problems at recess: fighting. As a punishment, one received out of school suspension; the others had no recess for a week. Ugh. One of the boys, EA, was then transferred to another class.
I was down to nine students.
I started having lunch with my students: boys on one day, girls on another. We began to bond on a personal level. I found out about their home lives. Well, the girls talked about their home lives, the boys were obsessed with pirahnas, lol. Although, one boy, HA, would occassionaly ask me a question about me; he wanted to know what I did on the weekends, etc.
This small act, having lunch with the students, took care of the fighting at recess, in addition to making us all closer.
Okay, so they took the state exams.
Out of the nine, 7 passed the Reading exam. Two were commended. (100%)
Out of the nine, 8 passed the Math exam. Again, two were commended.
All in all, it was a mixed year, but a good one.
GD, the little girl who didn't like Math, who hardly ever turned in her homework, or kept up with any papers, gave me the following note on the next to the last day of school:
At the top was written, "G's information about summer."
"Ms. Bush, I will miss you very much. I was going to tell you what an adventure I'm going to have on summer. I am going to Mexico with my cousins, and my tia, then to my cousin's house. I will really miss you. I can't stay away from you, but I will still remember you, in my hart. it's like your an angle. I will really miss you. may god bless you.
Sincerely, G"
This made the year fantastic. (GD drew the following 'angle' on her note to me):
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
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