Buy a toaster

This is an old post that I never published - I think I wrote it around December 2010. It's odd how much of it is still so true. And I still do have that quote up in my classroom:)

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I have a quote up in my classroom that says, "If you want a guarantee, buy a toaster." Life doesn't work like a department store. If something's not working, if a relationship is failing, if someone is dying, if your job is on the line, you can't march up to the counter with your receipt and demand that it be replaced at no cost. What are we really guaranteed in life? So much we demand that we must have, but at no point has God told us that we will have everything we want and that everything is fair. It's not. That's a guarantee - "in this world you will have trouble." In some odd way, that is so comforting to me. I can bank on that - I can shape my life on that - because the unknown is more scary to me than anything else.

My Grandma Morreim is very sick, and it breaks my heart. Yesterday she was taken by ambulance to Mayo Clinic because her heart's failing. She is stable now, but we aren't sure what will happen next. She is so dear to me. I grew up taking trips to their house to spend hours upon hours with my Grandma in the sewing room. We made doll clothes, beanie baby sleeping bags, dresses, and quilts. Every time we took the trip to the Heartland quilt shop, she told me the story of the evergreen trees on the side of the freeway. "I remember riding in my Grandpa's truck," she'd say, "and he would tell us, 'kids, you see how small those trees are now? You'll grow up to see them get big, but by that time, I'll be gone.' And sure enough, every time I see those trees, I think of my Grandpa." My Grandma patiently taught me how to stitch together small squares of fabric, never snapping at me when I did it wrong or didn't understand. Her soft, bruised, purple spotted hands would cover mine as she showed me how to guide the fabric through the sewing machine. She smelled like Jergens. I remember the way the tiny yellow light from the machine glowed on her hands and how it made her silver wedding ring sparkle. She worked quickly, gathering up the small scraps of fabric and thread on the table and smoothing the large pieces of material over with her hands. Quick, long, sure motions.

I remember the last time I quilted with my Grandma, I grew frustrated. She wasn't how I remembered. She was slow, struggling to pull the fabric up onto the machine, shuffling around the sewing room, steadying herself on the tables as she walked. I had to go to the bathroom because my eyes were full of tears. She wasn't the same. Time and age had gotten to her. I was so angry that this happened to her, so mad that her body was giving out. It wasn't fair. None of it was in her control.

No, there's no guarantee. We cannot make sense of pain. But amidst it all, Jesus is here, inviting us into his presence. None of it makes sense, and the fine print is too blurry to read. But he is here.

It's been a while...

...so long, in fact, that I forgot my blogger account information! I have taken a long, long hiatus from blogging. In short, a lot of life happened. Instead of boring you with paragraphs of detailed information that you'll skim anyway (because that's what I would do), I'm just going to hop right back in.

What's on my mind tonight: abundance. This past year, the driving force behind everything I've sought after and fought for is this nagging, unyielding belief that God wants more for me. I'm not talking about circumstances. There is no magical formula of what I do and do not have that will make me any more or less satisfied. Nope. No job, pair of leather boots, cup of coffee, relationship, car, or checkbook balance will bring me satisfaction. On the contrary: those desires only point to something much, much, MUCH bigger that I want. It is an echo, a shadow, of what my heart is truly longing after.

Him.

Jesus.

What a simple answer amidst a complicated wilderness; but it is the only answer that has turned that nagging desire in my head into something calm, full of strength, and peaceful. It has brought in the belief that God indeed works everything for the good of those who love Him. It has brought in the full assurance that the answer to what drives us really boils down to this: we need Him. We long for something much bigger than anything we will ever find in this world. And He will call to us, continually, consistently, every day, in every thought, because He longs to bring us home.

He is the abundance that we need. It's in his nature. He's not just "enough," he is more than we could ever dream to ask for. When we see God for who he really is, "we realize we are more wicked than we ever dared imagine, but more loved than we ever dared hope." (Tim Keller).

Do I sometimes fall back into thoughts that are full of fears and doubts? Yep. But instead of looking back, I'm trying to focus on the fact that He pulls me towards thoughts focused on his goodness and grace. It's a process, that's for sure, but the point isn't how long it takes; the point is that we're walking in the ever-increasing knowledge of what the Gospel really means.

Charming typos :)

Judging by his spelling errors, I'm not sure how much I've actually helped him? Made my day nonetheless! Too funny!

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Dear Mrs. Morreim,

   

This is part of an email assignment in word proccessing. I would like to thank you for helping me be able to write collage grade pappers. Your class has helped me tremendously in writing collage grade pappers and essays. You also helped me sharpen up my wprd choice and grammer. Thank you alot.

    

Sincerely, Matt

Theraflu and Starbucks

Right now I am hopped up on Theraflu cold medicine and a big ol' thermos of Starbucks coffee. I am exhausted. It's one of those days where 8am hasn't even hit yet and I'm already giving myself pep talks. Yesterday I stayed home sick with a head cold, which has now moved into my chest, resulting in me sounding like a blues singer with a 30-year smoking habit. I probably should have stayed home today as well, but I get bored.

As I write this, I'm realizing how whiny I sound... A different way of saying how I'm feeling today is that I'm in desperate need of encouragement. In many areas of my life right now I feel like I am just barely making it by; in relationships, work, physical health. I am letting myself become run down by the world and its cares. I am being ruled by worry more often than I'd like to admit, or more often than I think is healthy (is it ever healthy? hmm).  I want to shovel these discouraging thoughts out of my mind and fill my head and heart up with His truth.

Psalm 27:14 - "Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord."
Isaiah 41:10 - "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 - "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."

being graded

My students turned in their very first paper last week. As a teacher, it was easy to forget about the anxiousness that inevitably comes when a student turns in an essay. I was shocked at my students' questioning when I collected the essays: "Miss Morreim, do you think you'll get those done by tomorrow?" They weren't asking out of annoyance or impatience; their raised eyebrows and wide eyes betrayed them. They were worried about what I would think.

This raises a couple of questions for me. One, what is their experience with grades? Is it simply: if the teacher likes them enough, they will receive an "A" for that essay? Second, do they believe writing to be that subjective? They were relieved as I reminded them about the rubric; it shows them clearly what they'll be graded on and what constitutes an A, B, and so on. I also reminded them that I would not dock them points for something that I hadn't taught them yet - to which one student replied, "Thank you!"

The biggest question is this: how can I show my students that what really matters in the grand scheme of life is if they're proud of what they've written? What I wanted to ask them was, "Well, what do YOU think about it? Are you proud of it? Does this reflect who you are?" I want my kids to write things they'd be proud to hang on their refrigerator. I want them to write in a way that makes them not worry about what the teacher thinks. I want them to write about what they love, to write about things passionately, to write with purpose and with a desire to get better at the craft; and maybe, just maybe, along the way, to find a piece of themselves they didn't know existed.

In memory of Jill's reputation...

I've already got an embarrassing story, and it's only three days in! Imagine what else this school year will bring! Thankfully, this does not involve me teaching in my classroom. If I already looked like a moron to my kids, I'd be toast. 

So it's the end of teacher workshop week, and we're all gathering in the gym to take our staff photo. We decided to wear the football jerseys. The jerseys that were still wet from the washing machine and smelled like sweat, I might add. I'm chit-chatting away with one of my fellow new teacher friends and I grab a jersey without looking at it and throw it on. 

Little did I know as I walked towards the bleachers, laughing and talking, that I grabbed the most embarrassing jersey of all. Number 69. It took all of 7 seconds for one of the veteran teachers to notice and yell out, "Morreim! I like the jersey pick!" Commence the entire teaching staff laughing and cracking jokes at me. "Hey, Morreim! There's room in the front row!" "Morreim, try not to look so seductive when we're taking the picture. The kids will see this!" "Morreim, I'm not judging, but we're supposed to keep our personal lives private!" "Lookin' good, Morreim!" 

Well, I tried to be taken seriously as a professional. Good thing I was the youngest in my family - I've been conditioned to take crap like a champ. 

fear

Sometimes, when I'm bored and left to my own devices, I start to imagine my worst fears. All sorts of things, really. Fear of the future, past, what might happen, what probably will happen, thinking up things that will happen that in all actuality never will (but, you think, it still could happen), fear of losing family, friends. Blah blah blah.

I'm getting tired just typing all of that out. Sheesh, what a nutcase.

A few days ago as I was talking to God about all of this, something hit me: all of those things could happen. Yep. Trusting in God does not mean trusting that nothing bad will happen. Then I did something that I haven't done before. I played out those fears in their fullest - past when the dust settles on a terrible situation and  your entire life is in complete upheavel. Past my initial reaction and realization. Past the emotional trauma of having whatever fear it is realized in my life. After all of that - what would I do? Well, that's the wrong question. What would He do? He would give me strength, assurance, the supernatural ability to brush the dirt off myself and keep on walking. I'd be a mess, yes. But He wouldn't be. And in that I would be strong.

Don't you ever wonder how the Proverbs 31 woman "laughs at the days to come?" That woman has no fear. None. It seems that she quiets her fears by acknowledging that crap happens in life, and even if her worst dreams become a reality, she knows where her footing is - she is planted right on top of the truth that He will never leave us, forsake us, or abandon us. He did not make us timid, ladies! He gives us a spirit of power and a giant can of you-know-what to smack our fears square in the face, David and Goliath style.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

ooof

Do you ever have one of those weeks where every day is one of those days? Where you knock your funnybone on the wall? Forget to completely wash out the shampoo in your hair? Miss the 10-second window when your toast is still hot enough to melt the peanut butter just right (due to said shampoo situation)? That's me this week. It's the last week of school and I am pathetically trying to push through to the end. If you looked up "burnt-out" in the dictionary, you'd find a photo of me. Guaranteed.

As of right now, I'm taking a quick reprieve from grading research papers and paperwork. To which I should return.

In Him we live and move and breathe and have our being, and in him I can grade, focus, and finish well (but only in Him).

ringing in the weekend

Trader Joe's grub? Check.
Leggings on? Check.
Vino? Check.
Cheesy girly movie (Time Traveler's Wife)? Check.
Bike ride? About to commence.

This is one of the joys of being a twentysomething. You can do whatever you darn well want to on a Friday night. My bathroom mirror is splattered with toothpaste, we are down to one toilet paper roll (4-squares rationing...) and I haven't seen the middle seat in my car for a couple weeks now. And do you know what? Do you really want to know what?

I really don't care.

This girl's taking her bad self outside to bike and soak in the last of the Friday sunshine.

to have hope

What does it mean to have hope?

"Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." -Isaiah 40:30-31

There's a promise in there: those who hope in the Lord will be renewed, strengthed, immovable. It didn't say: if you grit your teeth and just try really really hard to be better, you'll be stronger. Or, my personal favorite: if you have one more thermos of coffee, you'll be able to get through the day. I've been thinking about this verse all day. What am I hoping in the Lord for, exactly? Am I even hoping in the Lord? Am I hoping for the right things?

If I could pin it down as of late, I'm hoping that life won't be too hard and that God will bust open the heavens, plop down next to me in a coffee shop, hand over a roadmap for my life, and throw in a guarantee that life will go according to [my] plan. I'm hoping that God will take away certain parts of me, because then life would be easier if I could only "be like this person." I'm a feeler. I process everything on a feeling level and I view the world in the same way. I've been reluctantly coming to terms with that recently. Instead of trying to change that part of myself, I'm learning how to believe that it is a strength and not a sign of weakness. God made me that way. Who am I to say he did it wrong? I'm hoping that this tough stage will be over with soon. Transition is hard. It's not what I expected. Making new friends is hard. Paying the bills is hard. Working full time is hard. My dad laughs at me when I update him and my mom about my endeavors during our Wednesday night dinners. He goes, "Jill, the Lord is just hammering the iron." Then he chuckles heartily and takes another bite of pot roast.

I'm also hoping that God will speak to me, that he will show me where to step, that I will feel his reassurance and love more and more everyday. I'm hoping that the Lord is teaching me some big things during this time. I'm hoping that these life experiences will continually reveal to me how much I need God and need to be loved by Him. I'm hoping and believing that I will find my identity in his grace - and not anywhere else.

I'm glad he's got it together, because there are days I am a hot mess - amen!

party in the C-R-V

Yesterday I shamelessly listened to 94.5 on the way to school. That catchy Miley Cyrus song was on... somethin somethin... "they're playin my song, and the butterflies fly away... party in the U-S-A!" Naturally, I had it cranked up. And naturally, the principal witnessed the entire thing.

the big 2-3

Tomorrow I am twenty-three years old. My twenty second year was a time of huge growth and change. I lived in 5 different residences within one year, for example - State Street, North Myrtle, my parents' house, 3rd avenue, and now St. Paul. I worked in a video store, at a McDonald's in the deep South, directed a play, and student taught. I went on an adventure to North Myrtle Beach and I'll never forget a day of that summer. I began teaching at Lakeville one week after student teaching ended - whew! God knew I would deal with the adjustment of the real world much better with less time on my hands to think. That's how he operates with me, it seems. He throws me right in - and shows me how to trust him. Trial by fire.

My twenty second year brought change, challenges, seasons of being pushed and stretched. If I could sum it up thematically, it would be, "God throws Jill into a million different situations and shows her the only stable thing in this world is the Lord." My twenty third year brings me the chance to take root. I've got a job and an apartment (and a wonderful roommate, I might add). The trick now will be to take the initiative to keep growing and learning.

I'll never forget a Christmas card from my Grandma Morreim a couple of years ago. She wrote, "Just think, this year brings a whole new world of possibilities to my youngest granddaughter!"

It's just as true today as it was then.

Bring it on, 23. Let's see what you've got.

to be fully yourself

My favorite moments of the day are when my kids let go of the feeling that they are being watched and scrutinized and for a brief period of time, carry a "screw it, I don't care WHAT anyone thinks!" persona about them. This does not happen intentionally for my kids, or very often. It sneaks up on them and ever so gently lifts off the burden of the world that hangs on their shoulders, carries the weight for a bit, lets them breathe. But when it does, I look at them and think: there you are.

What makes you let go? What allows you to live out your design? I find it in a few places. Teaching, for one. I find my rhythm and get on a roll and on the spot think of ways to teach something - I love it when that happens. I love to watch my kids learn something, watch them turn in their rough draft of their research papers so proud that they made it 8 pages - something about that brings me alive. Hearing one of my Goals kids say that hadn't read a book since 5th grade until they were in my class, and they actually liked reading it - I lived on that encouragement for days. Talking with people, meeting new people, hearing about their wounds, scars, successes, hopes - that energizes me. Bike rides, taking pictures, listening to Talking Heads, finding a shirt for $3, writing, being outside, going for drives in my car spontaneously. Decorating. Making my first pot roast. Giggling with my 8th grade girls about someone farting during church. Having a glass of wine.

It seems fitting to put that list to the tune of "These are a few of my favorite things," but I hate The Sound of Music, and I don't think Julie Andrews would sing about farting.

ka-put

I have kicked all of my ambition out the door. We got in a fight. Ambition was saying I should grade those papers that have taken up residence on my desk for two weeks and search a little harder for those vocab quizzes that I suddenly cannot find. In return, I told ambition that I've had enough of being a productive and valued citizen, thank you very much, and I would rather relinquish all my brainpower to getting a suntan instead. All the while my comments to my students have grown sassier, "I'm sorry for the emotional trauma that is being caused by my giving you a ten-minute homework assignment, but send me the therapist's bill. It's a risk I'll take."

Honestly, where did those quizzes go? They just took them on Monday. This is terrible.

I figured something out. When my college professors told me to always give my students a "why," I was living in the land of idealism. Yes, I thought, I will always explain to my students succinctly and beautifully why they are learning how to properly use a semicolon and how it will enhance their lives. Then, at the end of each week, we will hold hands and join together in a song about the greatness that is Academic Writing. Now I have seen the light: When I tell them why, it gives them reason to question everything I do.

Let me illustrate:
Students: "Miss Morreim, we haaate reading day, why do we have to read? This is soooo lame. Mr. Hanson's class gets to go outside. Why can't weeee go outside?"
Me: "Reading improves your vocabulary and research shows that it improves your writing skills more than any other activity."
Students: "whinewhinewhine"

A better response:
Students: "Miss Morreim, whine whine whine whine whine?"
Me: "Because I said so. Deal with it."
Students: (in desks, reading quietly).

How did those quizzes disappear? I'm losing it...

moving out

Packing today, moving in tomorrow!
HOLLER!