Be Still, My Wandering Heart

                                                     
                                                             Gets me every time. Cue the ugly cry.

 

 *Sob* Pass the tissues, please.

 

 

                                                                     And in the end, he did.

Sanctuary

Hello, secret corner of the web,

Here I am again in what I like to call my "sanctuary" time. The kiddies are at lunch, and I have all my papers organized for the next subject, Spelling.

Today is what Winnie the Pooh would call a blustery day. The leaves are dancing and the raindrops are cascading down in angles through the whipping wind. I had to hold my umbrella at a forty-five degree angle on the way to lunch, and I am so thankful I am wearing clogs today. Some of the kids don't even have coats! They are drenched, and it is hard not to tell them not to run back and forth.

I walked outside my classroom a minute ago and there was an orchestra of croaking. I felt like the courtyard was wired with Dolby surround sound. The frogs are talking to each other, and I like to imagine that they are asking each other how they are doing and if they are ready for winter- just like we do.

Not much to write about today except that I am ready for Christmas, but first, two weeks 'til my birthday!

Entirely too long

     Hello, computer universe! It has been entirely too long since I have posted anything to my little secret corner of the web. So much has happened since July, I wouldn't have the time or patience to repeat it all. Therefore, I will divulge the Spark notes version: I quit my job at a bank, and embarked on a great adventure as a third grade teacher!
     I am still newish at my job, so I still have people asking if I like it, and I just laugh usually in my simply Suzanne way, and say, "Oh yes, some days I like it, some days I hate it." Hate is a strong word, perhaps the word irritate is better, however since I am the epitome of melodramatics hate is the word I mentally choose when asked.
     I have the wonderful privilege, and yes, teaching is a privilege, of teaching twenty-three rambunctious, silly and oh-so-tender third graders. Their dreams are as big as the sky, and their bladders are as small as acorns. They kill me. Not literally, thank goodness, but in the humorous way.
     Each day is an adventure. I've gone through already about one-hundred Band-Aids and it's only been the first quarter. I hear "Teacher, I'm bleeding." about five times a day, and luckily I've only had one puking instance, which didn't really produce any puke. Anytime a fly is in the classroom, I must kill it if I wish to get any knowledge across, and I never knew a handheld pencil sharpener could give someone so much entertainment.
     There is nothing better than the thirty minutes of lunch you get each day to take off your shoes, lock the doors, close your eyes and drift into your sanctuary of alone time. Who am I kidding? Most of the time, I spend any break or lunch getting my papers ready for the next subject, picking up trash, running to the bathroom to pee faster than a racehorse, standing at the copier, organizing bookshelves and getting the projector ready. I usually have about five minutes to stuff my salad in my face, and suck down a Capri Sun, all the while grading papers and emailing parents. My record book has grease marks where I've dripped and sipped my lunch off its pages.
     The prize of the day is the beginning and end. They are always happy to arrive, and always happy to leave. Hugs in the morning and hugs at night, and this is what makes teaching so rewarding and addicting. I could get a hug from those kids every morning and every night, and I still would wake up waiting for the next time that I hear them say in an excited voice, "Good Morning, Mrs. Deardorff!"

How to love a husband

How to Love a Husband

Ingredients:

1cu of understanding
1tsp of spunk
3tbsp of fun
1cu of patience
1 3/4cu of "sugar"
1tsp of stubbornness
1cu of faithfulness
2cu of hope
3cu of forgiveness
A pinch of dreams

Preheat your oven to Forever

In a heart shaped bowl, combine understanding, faithfulness, hope, forgiveness, and patience. Set aside. In a 9x13 heart shaped pan, press stubbornness on the bottom, and sprinkle the sugar on top. Pour in the previous set aside mixture, and pour the fun all over it.

Before putting into the oven, take the spunk and the dreams and whip. Place the whipped mixture on top of the pan. Bake for 20 minutes, and set aside and let cool.

Find a romantic place to eat and enjoy! Best served immediately, with a sweet voice.

Chick-a-dees

    

You're Mine

You'll never win a show. You'll never make the news. Your teeth are forever crooked, and your feet smell like leather shoes. Your beard is always wet; your breath leaves little to be desired. Your eyes are always gunky, and you seem eternally tired. Your little belly heaves and sighs, you know you don't really have to try, because in the end my little, Lucy, you'll always only ever be mine.

Call me Robinson Crusoe

I recently remarked to my husband that if I lived according to the soap boxes that my friends on Facebook trumpeted constantly, I'd have to live on a deserted island, eat like a caveman, never grow wheat, abstain from all forms of sugar, and personally fly in a birth photographer to capture my all natural birth(s) in the lagoon, of course-with no vaccines involved. If I hemorrhaged, well, darn, I guess it just wasn't meant to be. If I survived, the cupcake eases of childbirth, and my child inevitably got pneumonia or pink eye, I'd have to rub some oil on their forehead, sing calm words to them, and hope that they recovered without the evils of modern medicine. Whenever they had circles under their eyes, I'd assume they had found a gluten-tainted morsel, and if they ever had a headache, I'd tell them they were eating too much sugar.

I need to ask two things. First, even if you live by all these standards of purported "healthy" living, will you live to 120? And second, where is your faith in God in your life?

Do I mean that you should constantly live in a state of sugar bingeing, carbohydrate stuffing, and pill popping? Absolutely not. Instead I wonder, if we haven't mistakenly bought into the ideas of humanism that puts our future in our control instead of God's. We think that if we take personal control of our food and our bodies that we will somehow live better and longer. And you might, but is it worth the judgments that you make towards those who do not, and I have one more question, who holds your ultimate future?

The Bible makes clear mention that worrying will not add a foot to someone's stature. Will worrying bring 20 years to someone's life? Hardly. In fact, studies show that worrying has the opposite affect on a person's health. When you reach heavens gates, will God cross examine you on whether or not you ate paleo style and only bought non-GMO veggies? Hardly. What will God ask you? He will ask you how you treated others. Will God ask you if you had an epidural or if you had two Tylenol during birth? I don't think so. Instead, God will ask you how you helped your Christian brothers and sisters in their spiritual lives.

Why spend so much time trumpeting the philosophies and opinions of the world. Paul said that bodily exercise profits little. Did he mean that it was okay to be a giant slug who can't advance the Kingdom? No, he meant that there are more important things to invest your time in.

I believe that eating healthy has its advantages and that God would want us to take care of our bodies; I believe that God wants us to use sound judgment in the medical practice, but I also believe that the Creator of the universe holds my future in His hands and no matter what type of flour I use or medicinal remedy I pick, He ultimately is the one who holds the healing.